A Place to Call Home
by ellennar
Summary: Someone unusual takes an interest in the 'kiddy kops' AU starting with Blinded by the Thousand Points of Light
1. Chapter 1

**21-Jump Street – AU starting with Blinded by the Thousand Points of Light – someone unusual takes an interest in the 'kiddy kops'. I do not own Jump Street or the other show that I have borrowed a concept from for my OC. I will post a disclaimer for it once I can no longer openly avoid reveling the cross-over (hey you wouldn't want me to spoil the surprise now would you?)**

**A Place to Call Home: Chapter 1: Cold Streets, Warm Hearth**

**Penhall**:

I rubbed my hands together for what seemed like the thousandth time as my stomach rumbled again. I'd never realized how much I _ate_ before I was on an assignment were I couldn't. Taken _everything _for granted. I had, **had** to find somewhere to live soon because I **couldn't** end up like this. I didn't know how these kids did it hopeless day after hopeless day. And the stories they told about why they couldn't go home had me thanking God for my uncle with every breath. Yeah, Dad had knocked me around a little when he drunk and I had thought I'd had it rough when my mom, when my mom killed herself. There I said it, at least to myself. It certainly hadn't been easy, it still gave me nightmares but I'd had someone. Someone had stepped in and helped me pick up the shattered pieces of my life. Nobody had been there for these guys, nobody but Aaron and now some bastard in a black Beamer had probably killed him. It sucked. Everything about this case sucked. I hoped Judy was doing ok with Moho. I hoped I was wrong and Aaron wasn't lying dead behind some dumpster I really did but my gut said that we weren't going to find the guy alive. All we could do now was nail the 'Beamer Man' without Tom, Harry, or Booker getting hurt in the process except that wasn't going to help these kids who had just lost the brightest light in their dismal lives. I wondered if I'd been gone long enough to go back again yet. I'd delivered another john to the station and pulled out some more cash (this case was costing me a fortune that I hoped the department was going to cover), and was most of the way back to where I'd left the others. Hell, if it was too soon it was too soon I didn't want to leave the kids alone any longer than I had to. I didn't want anyone else hurt on my watch. What had happened to Bonzo because I couldn't be bothered to escort her was going to haunt me for a long, long time.

I whirled my heart in my throat as someone cleared theirs behind me. Easy Penhall I told myself forcing my hand away from my gun. Nothing to get jumpy about just because you're alone, without backup, in the dark, in one of the roughest parts of town, nothing at all.

"My apologies, officer Penhall" someone in the shadows said as my heart skipped a beat. There was something, off, about the voice. He (she?) sounded young but the 'tone' sounded old. Weird. "Startling you was not my intendment." Huh?

He timed stepping forward perfectly with the sweep of a turning car's headlights so he was brightly lit for a single breath and then fell back into the inky darkness. I had impression of angelic blue eyes in a cherub's face framed by hair so blond it was nearly white, at least in headlights. At a guess I'd say he was somewhere between a tall eight and a short ten. He was also a liar 'cause he'd looked damn amused about my flinching.

"I ain't no cop. And I don't know any Penhall."

"Ah, then you have no desideratum for the license plate number of the dark blue Mercedes your compatriots have been seeking so ardently nor do you wish to deliver Aaron to his coterie? Pity, I'll have to discover someone who does."

"Hey, hey, not so fast, I might want to know that stuff," if I knew what some of those words meant "the others are really worried about Aaron. Is he okay?"

"Improving but he sustained a nearly fatal thrashing and shan't be capable of resuming his erstwhile method of supporting his compatriots for some time" a thoughtful pause "and it would be unconscionable for him to continue to do so in any event." God the kid sounded closer to sixty than six. It wasn't the voice so much as the words and the way they rolled off his tongue. And I needed a translator. "RPG 431 is the vehicle you seek. You should let the others know swiftly, he's already on the prowl. You will find Aaron somnolent on 7th & 26th south west corner, be careful evacuating him and watch your step going in. Good evening, and good hunting."

"Hey who are you?"

Silence was my only answer.

I licked my lips and whispered "How do you know who I am?"

I nearly jumped again when the reply came from a different direction than I thought it should. "We encountered each other on Madison and Elm but I didn't linger to introduce myself." If someone had dumped a tray of ice cubes down the back of my shirt they wouldn't have gotten that much of a shiver. We'd nearly died on that bust six months ago, Tom and I both, would have if it hadn't been for a mystery man who'd shot the damn gun right out of Becket's hand. I thought that stuff only happened in movies. The department had searched high and low but had finally given up on finding the guy and after all nobody had died. Hell, Beckett had only needed a few stitches and a splint for a broken finger. Was this kid claiming responsibility or just that he was there, somewhere in the shadows then too?

"You need to act before another shares Aaron's fate, he was already hunting when I went seeking you. Go, officer, now."

I called again but this time no one answered. Besides what was I going to do tackle and arrest an eight year old? I had enough change in my pocket to call it in and then I went looking for 'my' kids with more spring in my step than I'd had in a long time. I should be skeptical as hell, I mean the whole thing was way freaky but but (sheesh Penhall you sound like a motorboat) maybe I was just so desperate to have good news for those kids that I was willing to take an eight-going-on-eighty apparition's word at face value.

I was surprised to see Kevin with my little band. I sighed, I was glad to see Judy back but I'd been hoping Moho would stay home.

"Hey, any o'you guys know a little blond kid who talks like he's really, really old?"

Bonzo's eyes lit up and then she sagged "You saw Gabriel?" She swiped at her eyes trying to sound happy "that's great Trump, that's really great."

Kevin was staring at, actually everyone but Judy was staring at me, and then she jumped on the bandwagon except she looked as confused as I felt.

"Did Gabriel say anything about Aaron?" Moho eyes were burning she was hoping so hard.

"The boy said he was hurt but alive" whoops of relief all round.

"Where?" Moho's hands were digging into my arm.

"Do you know any hangouts on 7th & 26th?" They didn't bother to answer they just took off leaving Kevin, Judy, and I to follow more slowly.

"Who's Gabriel?" I asked, ok, given Judy's look maybe I shouted it.

"Good question" Kevin answered, hands in his pockets, as we walked in the direction of 26th "I guess it was nine, or maybe ten months ago, that I heard the first whispers. Kids would come to me asking me what words so esoteric and arcane were that I had to buy a better dictionary for some of them. He's more of a rumor and urban legend than anything. He pops up out of the dark and either gives your or tells you something, the belief is if you listen then something really good will happen to you. He got the name Gabriel about seven months ago when one of the kids came back from an Easter play and decided that he must be an angle because he always brings good tidings. These kids watch for him the way younger kids look for Santa. They think just _**seeing**_ him is good luck."

"What do you think?" Judy asked while I mulled my own meeting with him.

Kevin shrugged "Doug is the first 'adult' and the first person who wasn't chemically altered to see him. He's like a ghost, they say you only see him when you're alone and only for a moment. I've never known if he was real or not and some of the stories the kids tell…"

I glowered at Kevin "he didn't call himself Gabriel" I said "he could have been any blond kid cashing in on the 'legend'." I could feel my hopes going up in a puff of smoke.

"What happened?"

I gave a quick rehash. Kevin sighed "That sounds like a classic Gabriel encounter and given that you've never heard of him you aren't likely to think up anything that strange."

"Gee, thanks"

"He couldn't have been the one to shoot Becket" Judy shook her head "I mean you said he was **eight**."

Kevin shifted "Alisha claimed he was the one who shot the East Side Slasher last month."

"No way" I outright laughed "the press might not have gotten a hold of it but if the only suspect we had was an eight year old kid we would have **heard **about it. I mean even cops gossip."

"Maybe, but we haven't heard ANYTHING about suspects" Judy said softly.

"The detectives and I had a good laugh about it too" Kevin said thoughtfully "Alisha was sailing on at least three different controlled substances that night and the way these kids have practically made a god of him she could have seen anyone shoot that mad man and though it was Gabriel come to save her."

"What made you change your mind?" Judy said as she looked ahead to where the other kids were milling around looking disappointed. Damn.

"I haven't, I still don't think that an eight year old shot a serial killer through the head even if it did save that girl's life and I don't think a single child could do half the things I've heard about. These kids tell some pretty wild stories. If it's true then someone else is using the kid as his spokesman. I don't know if I want to shake his hand or slug him."

I'd expected the corner of 7th & 26th to be another of the crumbling dives we'd been in for most of the week but in the kinda weird way of cities one block was hell on earth and the next one was ok, not the ritz or anything but ok. 26th was the transition and the building on the corner was old but had been kept up and was tightly locked.

The kids gathered round looking at me expectantly "What exactly did Gabriel say?" Moho demanded.

"That Aaron had been badly beaten but that he was getting better and sleeping on the south west corner of 26th & 7th."

Skid frowned at the building and suggested, "We could break in."

"Let's check outside first, which way is south?"

Nobody spoke up. OK, so "Let's just circle the building and see if we can find him before we start breaking and entering."

Nods all round. We circled the front quickly which was unsurprisingly Aaron free and Kevin flicked on his flashlight revealing the cleanest alley I'd seen all week. This did not look promising. There was no where to hide anyone. If that little bastard had gotten these kids hopes up only to dash them I was going to clock the little….he was eight you do not punch eight year olds. I was going to chase the little twerp down and spank him. At least twice. Really hard. I might even daydream about using a belt.

"**AARON!!"**

Moho had impressive lungs, really impressive, no TB for her, one less worry at least.

"Moho?" came a weak whisper in reply. He was close, really close. Kevin turned his light to the right. Which was a building wall. I took a step forward and nearly fell into a well hidden nitch. At some point in the past the building had had big arched ground level windows which had been bricked up but some of the deep set alcove that now extended a little below current street level remained. A clever bit of work with cardboard, paint, and plastic sheeting concealed a tiny but sort of cozy little space in the lea of the building. In the dark it was indistinguishable but I doubted it would pass more than a quick glance in daylight. Of course how many people look carefully at alley walls right?

"Aaron" Moho pushed past me to bury her face against his chest and sob. It looked like it cost him just to pick up his hand and lay it on her head. He looked like hell, he looked great 'cause he was actually alive. I glanced around at the little shelter. This had been made by somebody who knew how to **live** on the streets. After breaking my leg chasing that idiot through the woods I had read up a little on survival skills just enough to know I would suck at it. This place looked like somebody had applied all those neato woods tricks to an urban setting using trash in ways I never would have dreamed of. Heck he even had couple of compact mirrors angled just so to catch the street lights and reflect it around. It wasn't like bright or nothing but it gave enough glow to see by even without Kevin's flashlight.

"I'll call for an ambulance" Kevin offered as I backed out of the little 'room' so that the other kids could crowd around their pal. It was also a good 20 degrees warmer in there than out here.

"Oh, God, Aaron" Skid sounded really choked up, Joey was crying silently, while Bonzo was just kind of staring out into space. Moho didn't even bother to wipe the tears from her eyes she just started gently kissing all the bruises. That was gonna take a while.

"Sorry" he lisped "I asked Gabriel to tell you where I was the first time I woke up a couple of days ago but he told me 'There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken on flood, leads on to fortune. Your tide is still coming in."

"Huh?" I was glad Bonzo had finally said something.

"It wasn't time yet" Judy translated.

"What's going to happen to us?" she said desperately almost to herself "Aaron's hurt and Trump's seen Gabriel."

Something about the way she said it sent a chill down my spine "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're gonna go home, everyone who sees Gabriel finds a home" she swallowed hard "I never see Gabriel. I look and look but it's always someone else."

Aaron winced "Gabriel says it's time to go home, Molly."

"You can't" Moho, Molly, said gently "When we couldn't find you I called; your sister says the family considers you dead."

"Sarah isn't the whole family."

"Just rest" Molly said gingerly brushing his hair back from his black and blue face.

"Gabriel says Father" there was a lot of formality to the way he said that, made me wonder what kind of family he was from "has forgiven me."

Bonzo and Joey looked gutted while Skid looked confused. I guess Aaron and Molly were going home but that didn't help the other three and it was Aaron and Moho, Molly, her name is Molly, Penhall, who were the glue that held this little band together. As far as I could tell Gabriel wasn't doing the rest any favors.

"Aaron, what happened?" Judy asked.

He seemed to notice us for the first time and looked to Molly for an explanation.

"This is Sodapop, and that's Trump. They're new."

Aaron's eyes lingered on me "Gabriel mentioned you were keeping an eye on things for me, thanks."

I shifted, uncomfortably, remembering what had happened to Bonzo because I was an **idiot** and her comment that it never would have happened if Aaron had been there "Not nearly as good a job as you would have."

He knew, whether from Gabriel or from experience, I didn't know but he knew I'd screwed up.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Trump" he closed his eyes and grimaced.

Molly kissed his hand, "The ambulance is coming, you don't have to talk if you don't want to."

"It's ok" I noticed he was moving as little as physically possible, poor kid "After he tossed me out of the car" he blinked up at the bricks "I was certain I was going to die and all could think was I was leaving you alone. That I was going to die alone. Passed out for a while, wasn't certain if I was still alive or in hell later. Someone was kicking me and laughing but I couldn't seem to see anything. Then someone with a little kid's voice ordered them to desist. They stopped kicking me and laughed at my benefactor. I was worried about the kid 'cause he sounded really young and they weren't nice laughs and it sounded like there were a lot of them. I tried to tell the kid to go, to just leave me, didn't want anyone else hurt but then it got quite. God, I didn't know anyone could have eyes that blue. I could feel myself slipping away but he made me stay. Ordered me to stay as he conveyed me here."

"Was it far?"

"Couple of blocks, I think the guy dumped me on 24th, I was hanging by a thread."

"Wait a minute, that little kid brought you here all by himself?" I wasn't buying it. Tom was a hell of a lot bigger than 'Gabriel', Aaron was nearly as big as Booker and when I'd broken my leg he'd had a rough time and I'd been able to help a little. No way, no how that little guy had managed it all by himself.

"He's Gabriel" was Aaron's reply.

"He picked you up and carried you" I started to scoff.

"No, he used something low on wheels."

That might be believable. Of course it didn't explain why he hadn't take Aaron to the hospital.

"Have you seen anyone else?"

"Just Gabriel, he comes and goes a lot but he took really good care of me" Aaron was starting to fade on us.

"Except not telling your friends where you were and not taking you to the hospital" I muttered under my breath but nobody heard it over the arrival of the paramedics.

"That was really quick" Judy murmured.

"Apparently it'd already been called in" Kevin said as he watched them load Aaron into the ambulance. Molly tried to follow but they wouldn't let her.

"They're taking him to Memorial, do you think we have enough for a cab?" Molly was all but begging me.

"Better make it two" I said "If you know where to find one down here."

"Go up another block and you won't have any trouble" Kevin offered.

It was a quite night at Memorial, Aaron hadn't had to wait. The kids weren't even worried about Aaron. I guess they had enough faith in Gabriel to make that unnecessary but they worried plenty about what was going to happen to them with Aaron, Molly, and I going home. Not having nearly as much faith in little blond apparitions with delusions of grandeur I worried about Aaron. The kid had been DAYS without REAL medical attention. God only knew what kind of infection might have been brewing or internal injuries getting worse.

There was a clatter of falling charts behind us "Joey?!" A middle age nurse nearly tackled the kid.

"M-m-mom? What are you doing here?"

"I transferred down a few weeks ago when I finally realized what that son of a bitch had done. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I hung up on you when you wanted to come home, I'm sorry I've been such a lousy mom, I'm sorry I was too drunk that night to remember anything but the city you were in. I came down here hoping, hoping you hadn't moved on, hoping to see you. Except not here. Why are you here? You aren't hurt are you?"

"I'm fine" Joey sounded like he'd been walloped with a board "It's my friend, Aaron, who's hurt."

"The boy they just brought in? I'll see what I can find out." She pulled him into another fierce hug "Don't move I'll be right back."

"Now, there is proof of God's intervention in life" one of the ambulance drivers said his partner snorted.

"Oh, come on what are the odds? Normally we take the charity cases to County, for two hours we're bring 'em here instead and a family gets back together. I'm telling you it's God's hand."

"Enough of the preaching Jim" the second one growled in annoyance as the doors closed behind them. It was SOMEBODY'S hand and if Aaron ended up permanently hurt or dead because of it I was going to **hunt** down an eight year old.

I hated waiting and Joey's mom had been gone what seemed like hours. I turned to say something to Judy and caught sight of Kevin and Capt. Fuller coming in. Kevin continued on to the kids while Fuller whispered

"Hansen made the collar. They're on their way to interrogation. The license plate is a match for the numbers your 'informant' gave us. Have you spoken with Aaron yet?"

"Not since we got here and he didn't talk about the attack, just what happened after" and like an idiot I hadn't pushed 'cause little blond angel wannabees are more interesting than perverts who beat up hustlers. Except I was a **cop** and was supposed to put a priority on getting a description of the **perp** even if it would have seemed odd and even if I was really, **really** uncomfortable with the entire idea. "We're waiting on word from the doc."

Kevin was giving Joey a hug looking almost more excited than the kid. God the envy in Bonzo's eyes, Skid just looked like the kid who just found out there was no Santa. This sucked, sort of. I mean it was a HAPPY ending right? Aaron was alive, Joey was going home, Aaron and Molly might be too. Three out of five, way better than I'd ever expected a couple of hours ago. That is provided Aaron was really going to be ok. Where was the doctor?

Well, speak of the devil, it was about time.

"Capt. Fuller?"

He stepped around me and I stage whispered that I was going to follow and see what I could hear. Moho started to follow but Judy cut her off at the pass.

"Is Aaron going to be ok?" Capt. Fuller asked.

"It looks like he has a good chance of making a full recovery" the doctor sighed "at least for a little while. You probably have far more important things to track down." A pause "I've seen a few but some of the doctors at County have seen dozens."

"Dozens of what?"

"People treated by 'Gabriel'. I know these kids don't have insurance and the free clinics are mobbed but whoever this guy is he's operating completely without a safety net."

"Has anyone been injured by his care?"

The doctor shook his head "Not that I've heard of, truth is from what we've seen he's more than competent with simple fractures and I honestly wish some of my doctors were as good with lacerations but this is unconscionable" Hey, there was that word again, so what the heck did it mean?

"And **this** would be?"

"Someone performed surgery on Aaron. Damn delicate, dicey surgery, the kind that shouldn't even be considered outside of a sterile theater with a competent support staff. He needed it, I can't deny that, he would have died without it. Whoever did it did a decent job, I'll grant that too, but we're less than two miles from where they found that boy and for someone to take that kind of risk with his life with a hospital so close is unforgivable."

"Is he awake enough to talk? I need a description of his attacker."

"Briefly, only briefly." I wondered what the doctor had meant about the 'for now' bit and who was helping Gabriel with his 'miracles'. I stuck my hands in my pockets and pulled the right one out in surprise as my fingers encountered a piece of paper I didn't remember putting there. The writing was so fancy it bordered on tough to read

_Dear 'Trump',_

_Would you be so kind as to escort Bonzo and Skid to 256 W Oak St? Mrs. Lydia Ellsworth is expecting them. Please don't hesitate to knock no matter the hour. You should inquire about next door. _

_A.K.A. "Gabriel'_

Well, nice to know that the kid didn't consider himself an archangel. And he had thought about Bonzo and Skid too. Quick fingers to get this into my pocket without me knowing. Made me wonder if the kid was a pickpocket. Still looking down I nearly ran into what had to be Aaron's dad given how similar they looked. Wow, Aaron's dad was a rabbi or at least orthodox enough to wear a yarmulke all the time, and Aaron hustled. Not a good combination. But he did at least look really worried. Unlike the girl being glared at by Molly, she just looked disgusted. Very disgusted, by everything and everyone. Well, excuse us for breathing your air. She'd even be pretty if she hadn't looked like she'd been sucking on lemons for a hundred years. Dorothy looked perky in comparison.

"Hello, I'm Trump."

She sneered and took a step back. I didn't smell **that** bad. I'd lost a shot at a great apartment to get these kids a bath and while my clothes were screaming for some time in the washer I was actually pretty fresh. She looked at my hand like it was something slimy from the bottom of the black lagoon. I let it drop to my side "Don't you want to know how your brother's doing?"

"I had a brother but he died when he turned into a deviant pervert. Father agreed with me until that blond brat got to him."

Ah, Gabriel strikes again, the kid certainly got around. She stalked off as far from us as she could get. Joey's Mom had come back and clearly beat me to letting everyone know Aaron was going to be alright. Bonzo was trying so HARD to be happy for everyone else while she blinked back tears. I held out the paper.

"Gabriel slipped something into my pocket about you and Skid."

She all but clawed it out of my hand, read it, looked up at me in confusion "But what about you? When you see Gabriel good things are supposed to happen to **you**. You're supposed to get what you need."

I grabbed her trembling chin "But I did get what I wanted. I wanted you guys to find homes. I wanted something good to happen to you."

I got a quick hug as a response. Aaron's sister was doing her best to ignore our existence while Judy and Kevin looked at the note.

"Pretty fancy handwriting for an eight year old" Judy sounded doubtful.

"Too fancy" Kevin insisted.

"Do you know this Mrs. Ellsworth?"

Kevin shook his head, "Never heard of her."

"Gabriel says she's cool" Bonzo instantly defended. Kevin shot me a glance that was part hurt, part annoyance with a healthy heaping of worry. He spent years trying to gain these kids trust only to be 'that shelter guy' while Gabriel who no one had even SEEN could snap his fingers and send them jumping. That had to sting. And it was clear HE didn't trust Gabriel and whoever was helping him. I wondered how much was jealousy, how much was native caution, and how much was based on fact.

"I'll look into it" I mouthed over Bonzo's head. Kevin looked slightly relieved. Aaron's dad came back with Capt. Fuller and the doctor.

"Can we see him?" Moho was already trying to push past the doctor even as she asked the question. The doctor looked to Aaron's father who nodded.

"Briefly and one at a time" the doctor trailed after the kids leaving Capt. Fuller, Judy, Aaron's father and sister, and I in the waiting room.

"Thank you, all of you, for what you did for my son."

Judy shrugged "We really didn't do much. 'Gabriel' seems to have arranged everything."

Aaron's father flushed "It is a great shame when a grown man who has dedicated himself to the study of the Torah has to be reminded of responsibility and compassion by a child. And you tried officer and that alone deserves at least a thank you. It couldn't have been easy living on the streets even for a little while." He closed his dark eyes "I failed my son and now" his words trailed off.

"You didn't fail him" Sarah snapped from her chair "he failed everyone."

"Not everyone. He gave his life for those children."

"Your son is still alive" I pointed out.

"My son has AIDS."

Oh, open mouth insert foot. I guess Gabriel couldn't fix everything.

"Justice served" Sarah finally looked happy about something. I had been mistaken she wasn't a pretty girl at all, ever.

"You will be civil" their father snapped "if you learned nothing from me then so be it but you will at least be polite to your brother for whatever time he has left."

"Aaron was the one who didn't learn, Father, not I" she said head high.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose "How could I have taught you the same lessons and set the same example and had such terribly opposite results? You learned the Law now you must learn mercy. The doctors say it will be a few days before we can take him home. We have much to prepare." With a nod they were gone.

Damn, so Aaron hadn't been saved after all, not it the end, unless of course someone found a cure for AIDS soon.

Capt Fuller frowned at the note Judy had passed him as I mentioned 'Gabriel's' comment about Becket and Kevin's revelation about the East Side Slasher. "Go ahead and take the kids to the Ellsworth woman but keep a sharp eye on things and see if you can find out more about this Gabriel. Hoffs try to convince Molly to go back home again then go home and get some real sleep yourself. Doug make sure to call in regularly or I'm sending backup. Actually scratch that Michelle will be keeping an eye on things from a distance just in case." He started to say something else but instead just frowned sternly "I really think you should go home young man even if you ARE" and he sounded like he didn't believe it for a second, one of the kids must have come back, "eighteen."

I shrugged "I'll think about it Capt Fuller." I shot Bonzo what I hoped was a look of desperation "Hey, I'm sure visiting hours are over, maybe we should come back later." Bonzo and Skid where both more than ready to go with Capt. Fuller glaring at them.

"So any idea where W. Oak is?"

Actually I didn't so I wandered over to the receptionist and asked her to call us a cab.

"Trump do we have enough cash?" Bonzo whispered.

"Hope so" 'cuase whipping out a credit card would certainly blow my cover.

"Hey, what about Sodapop?" Skid asked as we slipped out into the night.

"She wanted to stay with Moho"

Bonzo shrugged, indifferent, Moho might like Judy but Bonzo seemed happy she was gone.

256 W. Oak turned out to be in a slightly run down but still clinging to semi-decent neighborhood. The place looked a little better maintained than the rest of the street. The paint on the white picket fence looked less than a year old and while the rose bushes looked kinda sad in the winter cold my aunt had been gaga over the things and I knew these would look really good in the spring. God, it was almost dawn. I paid the cabbie and stopped hesitant to knock. 'Gabriel' had said not to worry about the time but it was like 4:45 in the morning. We were all exhausted. Oh, what the hell. No sooner had my knuckles hit the wood then a thin voice asked.

"Trump?"

"With Bonzo and Skid."

"Please come in, it's unlocked" the fact that no one came to the door was sending off sirens in my head and I nearly turned around and left.

"Mrs. Ellsworth is everything ok?"

"My apologies for not getting the door my balance is off a bit today. Why don't you be a dear and show them in?"

I don't know what I expected to come around the corner but it wasn't a half grown wolf. Couldn't be a wolf, people don't keep wolves as pets. Must be a husky or something. Huskies were the ones with the blue eyes, right?

It gave one faint wave of its tail and then turned and trittrotted back the way it had come leading us back to the kitchen. It, or rather he, sat prim and alert next to an older lady say fifty-five to sixty, once red hair now sixty-forty grey with the grey winning. It was hard to tell with her sitting but I was willing to bet she'd be tall, close to 5'9" maybe even 5'10". Her hands were all twisted up in her lap but even as I sized up the woman my eyes kept going back to the blond dog. He hadn't growled or snarled or nothing but he still gave me the heeby-jeebies. And if he ever grew into those enormous paws he was going to be like Cujoe terrifying.

He gave a soft 'chuff' sound and Mrs. Ellsworth asked "Would you be kind enough to let him out?" 

"**NO**problem" I assured her and breathed a sigh of relief. Hey, the pooch was wearing colors. He had a bandana that perfectly matched his eyes. So had that kid 'Gabriel'. Interesting.

"What's his name?" Skid had been a lot less intimidated.

"I don't think Pauly ever told me. I just call him Yeller. He's such a sweet little dear and he worries so about me here all by myself. I refuse to have him here on school nights so he leaves the dog more often than not. What on earth the dog would do I haven't a clue but if it sets the boy's mind at ease" I think she meant to shrug but it came out as this funny little twitch.

"You have MS" Bonzo hadn't phrased it as a question but Mrs. Ellsworth answered it as if it was.

"Yes, it took a sudden turn for the worse this spring. Pauly has been encouraging me to hire in some help but I simply can't afford it." She sighed "and I can't keep relying on the generosity of a child either." Whoa, was 'Gabriel's' real name Paul?

"Pauly suggested that we might be able to help each other. I need a pair of hands and eyes that work"

"You're BLIND" I blurted before my brain could catch up to my mouth. I blamed it on being tired and starving.

"It comes and goes. The first time this spring was terrifying. I found myself blind and barely able to walk right in the middle of an intersection. I think I would have died if Pauly hadn't rescued me. All everyone else could do was honk and shout." Her lips twisted into a shape that looked painful "But little boys should be little boys not servants to crippled old women. My disability payments aren't enough for me to hire professional help but if you're willing to lend a hand in exchange for room and board I think I can keep all three of us fed provided you weren't looking for lobster on a regular basis."

Bonzo sniffled, wiped her eyes, and nodded "My Grandma had MS. I used to help her when I was little so I already know some stuff. Skid and I would be very happy to stay and help out." Skid was nodding eagerly "But what about Trump?"

"Pauly mentioned that Trump was a bit older than you two and could likely find steady employment. The house next door belonged to my parents. I kept it when they died and used it as a rental for a while but it's gotten a little run down. It's still structurally sound and the heat, plumbing, and electric are functional but it needs some cosmetic work. I would be willing to be reasonable about the rent if you would help set it back in order."

I frowned that wasn't really what I wanted. I wanted someplace I could just turn the key and never have to worry about a damn thing. But if I told her no I blew my cover, left a crippled old lady in the lurch, and I couldn't watch over Skid and Bonzo anymore. While I was mulling my stomach howled a protest.

"My apologies" Mrs. Ellsworth said as I was sputtering an excuse me. "Pauly was by early this morning and made breakfast for us. The pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, and potatoes are in the oven to keep them warm and the rest is in the refrigerator."

Skid didn't have to be told twice and I swore that I'd died and gone to Heaven. Pauly's pancakes were just perfect. People are always telling me that they're easy but Dorothy always burns them and mine are gooey in the center.

I sighed in contentment as I sopped up the last bit of syrup and popped one of the fresh strawberries into my mouth. That was the best breakfast I had ever eaten in my life and not just because I'd been starving (though it probably had made it taste better too. I wanted some more of Pauly's cooking later just for proper comparison.)

"Why don't you two decide who gets which room and get some rest while I show Trump the house?" I didn't know if Mrs. Ellsworth would be insulted or not if I offered her my arm but she had complained about her balance so I figured better the err on the side of caution 'cause broken legs were no fun. Her lips twisted but I had no clue what it meant. She did take my arm though in one hand and a cane looking thing in the other. She was almost as tall as Tom. Walking with her wasn't easy she lurched and swayed but we made it to the little house next door without taking a spill. It didn't look that bad from the outside or from the foyer. Was that a **fire** I heard crackling?

Yes, it was.

"Pauly must have swept the chimney. I told that boy to stay **off** the roof." From the level of annoyance in her voice Pauly wasn't so good at listening.

OK, so it needed a little spackle, carpet, and a whole lot of paint. Maybe a little caulk too. Nothing I couldn't handle and nothing I had to stress about.

"So, what do you think Officer Penhall?"

"You know?"

"Pauly told me. I was more than a bit leery of letting a couple of derelicts into my home. I am essentially helpless"

I could see how much it hurt her to say it.

"and the thought of a police officer living next door is very comforting, particularly one that Pauly speaks well of."

I could feel the hint of a blush coloring my cheeks "Does he?"

"He says you have a kind heart."

God, how could I say no? Would she throw Bonzo and Skid back out if I did? How could I do that to those kids? There was a note on the mantle in that same fancy script from earlier.

_I had the Jacuzzi installed yesterday. I fear I couldn't resist testing it. Wonderful invention. _

_Fireplace, alcove, and Jacuzzi, as requested,_

_Paullus_

No quotation marks this time.

"OK, Mrs. Ellsworth, but I have to admit I'm really, really curious about Pauly. Do you happen to have his full name? Or his parents' phone number?"

"No" she said softly "I think he told me his full name once but I don't hear or remember as well as I once did. Pauly might not even be right. I suspect that no matter how badly I garbled his name he is too polite to correct me. He never gave me a number and no one has ever called looking for him." That worried her I could see it in her eyes.

So I had nothing but the name Paullus, great, just great. Except did I really WANT to get the kid caught? I mean was he doing any harm? It didn't seem like it but there was definitely something fishy going on. I sighed.

"Do you happen to have a photo then?"

"Is something wrong Officer?"

I shrugged unable to meet her eyes "There are questions. Questions we'd like him to answer. We suspect that he might be in some kind of trouble." I felt like an utter heel. We didn't KNOW he was in any sort of trouble.

She took something out of her pocket "Pauly is very camera shy. I don't think he knows I took this one he certainly never let me take any others. It isn't very good. My hands aren't as steady as they used to be."

So, she had her suspicions as well. That made me feel less like an utter jerk. I mean the old lady was worried and she'd known the kid for months. That said something was probably wrong, right? Tracking the kid down was the right thing to do. There was no telling what was going on.

From the pink roses framing him the shot was from May or June. The camera had focused on the flowers instead of the boy but he was close enough that the focus was 'soft' instead of hopelessly blurry. It was clear enough that any lingering doubts I had about 'Gabriel' and Paullus being one and the same were gone. Really cute kid, maybe even more of a 'pretty boy' than Tommy and Dennis. Even out of focus the blue eyes leapt off the photo. The hair was a little darker than I'd thought but not by much about a shade and a half short of completely white.

I pocketed the photo with a nod and asked "So what do I owe you?"

"First month free in exchange for getting things in order, then four hundred a month?"

I could live with that, actually it was cheaper than the apartment I'd lost because of the kids but I worried that Mrs. Ellsworth wasn't getting her money's worth. I'd just have to make that up around the place when I could.

"Mrs. Ellsworth" Skid was holding the phone and I had a sinking feeling it was for me. Who else but the cops were going to be calling at 5:30 in the morning?

I helped her back across the yard and was promptly passed the phone.

"Penhall" Capt Fuller sounded almost as exhausted as I felt "I know the last thing you want to do is come back in but I need you down here. Major Crimes wants to talk to you apparently things are more…interesting than we guessed."

13


	2. You Hunt

**Author's notes: A hearty thank you to all my reviewers. I'm not certain if this is quite in character or not (or at least a valid interpretation of a character) so please let me know what you think.**

**A Place to Call Home: Chapter 2: You Hunt….**

Booker

I had rarely wanted to go back to my apartment so badly. **Hanson** had made the bust so what were Fuller, Penhall, Ioki, and I doing meeting with Major Crimes? Speaking of which Detectives Fitzgerald and Ramirez were refusing to tell Ioki, Fuller, and I anything until Michelle brought Penhall in. I was so sick of sleeping at the Y. I was so sick of this case. Not that I wasn't glad that Hanson had caught the SOB but here was a reason why I didn't work Vice. Sex was legal (between consenting adults the monsters who targeted little kids deserved to be lined up and shot), selling was legal, and I had a hard time justifying that selling sex was illegal. As a cop I didn't indulge and to be honest I didn't need to but still a stupid rule that I personally had no problem with people breaking so long as no one was getting **hurt**. The pervs, deviants, and killers that took their frustrations out on prostitutes and hustlers deserved their own spot up against the wall. I wondered how many kids that old bastard had beaten nearly to death and how many unclaimed John Doe's in the morgue he had put there. I didn't regret those nights on the street trying to catch him but now that he **was** caught I wanted my own bed back. I slouched down a little further against the filing cabinet letting my eyes sag shut. If they didn't like it they could start talking.

_Cemetery, swirling mist, an open grave Christine standing above it "I thought I knew you. I loved you Dennis"_

I jerked awake as Penhall came in for once grateful for his timing. I **hated** that damn dream and I couldn't seem to shake it.

"Fitz?" Penhall wore his heart on his sleeve and he looked like someone had carved it out and handed it to him. So he still wasn't over washing out of Major Crimes any more than I was really over getting booted from Internal Affairs. Of course his mistake had really been HIS. I was stuck here because of the tag team stupidity of Hanson and Penhall. He still looked like a kicked puppy. I debated if I should give him some friendly advice later but why bother? He wouldn't listen. No body around here did, at least not to me, well maybe Judy, sometimes, Hanson had made certain of that. Rapist. It didn't matter that it wasn't true, that I would NEVER, EVER **do** something like that. 'Tommy', who everyone around here liked and respected said I could therefore I was the big bad wolf. It didn't help that I was **ex** Internal Affairs. Thank you very much Penhall and Hanson. I could have burned them back. I could have had Hanson's badge over the break in and washed Penhall out of Intelligence for ratting me out but I'd tried to prove I wasn't the monster Hanson had branded me. I'd taken the heat for fumbling the case, ended up branded 'not IAD material', and had been packed off to join the 'kiddy kops'. Who kept me at arm's length. Oh they were professional and they even let me 'pal around' with them but I knew exactly where I stood with them. Fuller I was less sure about. I'd been branded trouble early on but I thought I'd made up some ground. I sighed just because we worked in high schools didn't mean we needed to act like teens in the Chapel but we did. We had our cliques and Tommy, Doug, and Judy were the 'in' kids. Unless and until Hanson came around nobody was going to really trust me. To hell with them all. I didn't need any of them. As long as they were professional enough to watch my back when we were under cover that was enough. Besides if I kept up this train of thought any longer I was going to get as broody as Hanson.

"Hello, Officer Penhall" he winced and she flushed a little while the rest of us watched. I honestly liked Penhall and felt bad for the guy but I had no doubts at all about where his loyalties lay. "You made contact tonight with the individual known as 'Gabriel'?"

"Actually I think his name is Paullus."

Ramirez leaned forward taking the lead from Fitzgerald "He told you his name?"

"Not exactly, but he signed this note."

Curious I leaned forward catching only what looked like the word Jacuzzi. While I still wanted a good night's (or day's the case may be) sleep I was intrigued enough for most of my annoyance to exit stage right.

"Officer Penhall, why don't you start from the beginning?" Fitzhugh suggested.

Penhall drew a deep breath, "This is gonna sound pretty weird."

Fitzgerald sighed "Doug we've been trying to track this kid for five weeks ever since that girl pegged him as the East Side Slasher's killer without ever getting anything but ghost stories" she picked up the note "This is the first shred of physical evidence we have that the boy isn't a mass hallucination."

"Well" Ramirez observed dryly "there are the bullets."

Penhall seemed to be arguing with himself before getting a slightly triumphant light in his eyes "I can do you one better" he made a show of reaching into his coat and laying the photo on the desk with a flourish. I wasn't certain what I expected but as Ioki summed it up it wasn't 'the male equivalent of Shirley Temple'. He even had little gold ringlets and slightly pouty lips. I had to bite back a snide observation about silly tap routines not being a crime.

"So what happened last night Doug?"

As he related the events I could only conclude that Penhall had taken a wrong turn and ended up in the Anti-Twilight Zone where everyone got a sappily sweet ending courtesy of a refugee from bad Renaissance art.

"So why are **we **here?" I asked.

"Because the ballistics from Becket and Edward Jones" the East Side Slasher I mentally filled in "match six additional cases."

A chill swept through me at the thought of an eight year old shooter so I tried to ignore it with a little internal sarcasm. So what would the press make of this when if finally leaked? (because something this strange was bound to eventually). When Cherubs Go Bad? Killer Kids? Angel of Death? The Kind Killer?

I knew we were the 'kiddy kops' but he was like ten, tops. We weren't exactly going to blend into an elementary school.

"How many bodies?" Ioki asked.

"Thankfully just Jones. The rest where like Becket, guns shot out of hands, people clipped so shots went wild, that sort of thing. The other nine were treated on an out patient basis and incarcerated."

"Incarcerated? And I thought you said six cases?"

"Penhall and Hanson aren't the only cops who likely owe whoever the shooter is their lives. Every single shooting took place when the injured party was threatening someone else's life. Whoever the shooter is he's quick, clean, and a sniper class marksman."

Little Pauly Oakley? Boy Wonder? Mighty Mouse? Guardian Cherub?

"In one case he managed to disarm not one but 3 dealers. The weapon used is likely fully automatic and does not match any known gun. This is a custom weapon with custom ammo. And for the record NO ONE believes the kid is really the shooter or the medic but he's our only lead on who is."

Ah so we were after the Caped Crusader. I was never quite sure how I felt about the whole concept of vigilantes. I mean I'd LOVED comic book heroes as a kid and so far this guy didn't seem like such a bad sort. Granted he was breaking the rules but was what he was doing wrong? I joined the police force to 'catch bad guys' not stalk little kids. Besides I wasn't good with kids.

"Penhall you're to keep watch on Mrs. Ellsworth to see if he comes back there. Booker and Ioki you're to stay on the streets. It's clearly the center of his sphere and he has a soft spot for hustlers who get into trouble. Aaron isn't the first one he's helped."

I was having a tough time selling this case to myself and not just because the Y and the streets were the LAST places I wanted to be.

"What made Jones different?" I asked "Why kill him when he winged everyone else?"

Granted he'd killed a scumbag but if it was cold blooded murder it was still cold blooded murder and he was dirty.

"According to forensics from his position the only way to hit Jones without also hitting the girl was a head shot."

Damn. I looked at Fuller. I didn't want this case. He didn't need me to say it he could see it on my face.

"My men have been on the streets for over a week straight, at least give them a day in their own beds before you send them back out."

"The mayor is breathing down our necks on this. He's terrified the press is going to get a hold of it while we still don't have any answers."

"Look if Kevin is right then whoever has been operating out there for 10 months. Another day isn't going to hurt and Booker and Ioki will be better for it."

Fitzgerald didn't like it but Ramirez caved to the Captain. Weren't girls supposed to be MORE understanding? Whatever just as long as I wasn't sleeping at the Y today.

"I want them back out tomorrow night."

"They'll be there."

I stayed where I was as the detectives marched out leaving us a handful of files to study. Most of it went with them but I still had a few friends at IAD. By the time I hit the streets again I'd know everything we knew about 'Gabriel'.

"Why don't you send Hansen in with Ioki?"

"Because Hanson's cover is blown and so is Hoffs'."

"What about Ditrick? Or Simpson?" Sometimes I wondered if the Captain even remembered that there were actually more officers here than the Fab Four.

"I know you don't want this case Dennis"

Great, first name, why was it people always used your first name before telling you something you never wanted to hear like you have lung cancer?

"but we can't always have what we want. You didn't want to be in the 'nerd frat' and that turned out ok."

"Captain" I started but he held up a hand.

"I know you think 'rules' is a dirty word and that you're telling yourself that no one is getting hurt. But how do we know that?"

"Captain, I'm just not certain this is a good use of resources. We're already stretched thin from all the budget cuts and now they want us to chase down the only kid in the city who'll help an old lady across the street without expecting to be paid. That isn't what I signed on to do."

"Hey" Ioki, the worst stickler for law and order I had ever met broke in. "Whoever is behind this kid is a vigilante, end of story." I could have sworn Ioki had been defending the Street Rangers. I guess he must have taken Hanson nearly getting shot harder than I'd realized and picked up some serious anti-vigilante baggage.

"Fine, swell, whatever. I'll see you tomorrow night" because Ioki was going to hunt this kid and I couldn't leave him out there alone.

Quiet. I used to **love** the quiet of my own place. My little refuge of my, myself, and I, except we weren't as good company as we used to be. Somewhere along the way something had gone wrong and silence had lost its charm. Something, no, not s**omething** Christine. Something inside had cracked when I realized she'd killed Bobby because she thought he was the narc and it had broken completely when she threw herself down that elevator shaft. Everything had been…hollow since then. Maybe it always had been and those kids' deaths had just forced me to notice it. I'd almost cried in the dept shrink's office. God that was still embarrassing to remember. I had all but begged her to tell me how to fill the yawning void that had opened as the metaphorical ground crumbled beneath my feet only to have her give me some useless psychobabble about needing to get in touch with myself and some mandatory leave time to do it on. I'd given her the right pat answers when I got back, managed to convince my waking mind that Christine had been a ticking time bomb of a head job just waiting to go off and that it wasn't my fault. I almost believed it until I went to sleep. I gave myself a mental slap. I was NOT going to become as broody as Hanson. I had a reputation to maintain. Besides it didn't look like much fun and I was all about fun. So shower, call Brian and set up a meeting for tonight, sleep, hopefully, if that damn dream would let me.

It had been long enough since I'd been here that I actually had to order my drink instead of my usual just appearing. Maybe it was working out of a defunct chapel but the bottom line was the Jump Street crowd didn't go in for strip joints. They were more of a pool and pizza crowd. IAD was another story but this one was on the wrong side of town for most of IAD the only reason I'd frequented it was that I'd been dating one of the strippers for a while. I dumped her about the time she'd started pestering me about talking to her. My relationships had a shelf life of about six weeks. I couldn't decide if the variety was refreshing or depressing. By the time Brian showed up a half hour later there were four empty bottles lined up in front of me and I had the distinct impression that the waitress was trying to think of a way to slow me down without actually flagging me. She might have a point but I wasn't certain I cared at the moment.

Brian looked pissed as he came in, saw my line up and switched to concerned (and still slightly pissed – what had I done? Unlike the temperamental 'kiddy kops' the IAD crowd usually had the decency to wait for you to screw up to jump down your throat.)

"Want to talk?"

I didn't answer. The natural blond on the platform didn't look old enough to be up there. She was new at this and it showed. She had the goods for the job but was still rough around the edges. Just like so many of those kids on the street where I'd be going back tomorrow to hunt one of the few people who was getting them off the streets. Because _maybe_ something was fishy.

He laid the files on the table "I can't let you keep these. I barely made it out with them. Something about this has the brass more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

The fact that I found the comment hilarious meant that I'd had a little too much too fast on an empty stomach.

"Dennis please tell me you aren't too pickled to even read these."

Brian was a great guy and I was being an ass.

"I'm shorry" that shouldn't have slurred maybe four was just what was left in front of me.

He just sighed "It wasn't your fault Dennis." Brian had undoubtedly read every single report including Fuller's and the shrink's.

I shook my head (a mistake) cleared my throat, swallowed a belch, and attempted to speak clearly "Not that. I shouldn't have asked you to jeopardize your job for me."

Brian was old enough to be my dad and he was definitely more reliable.

"It's ok, Dennis. Now are you going to look at the files or her?"

"She's probably prettier" I offered.

"Undoubtedly but if you don't buckled down and at least pretend to look at them I'm going to kick your ass."

I pulled the one on the top and had to swallow hard when I realized that it was a photo of the remains of someone's head.

"The East Side Slasher?"

"Yes"

Brian had ordered us coffee and I took a gulp. My stomach complained but I ignored it "What's he using? A cannon?"

"The ballistic guys think it's a .24 caliber."

"WHAT?!"

He shushed me, not that the other patrons were paying the slightest attention to anything but Lisa. I was momentarily distracted by memories – why had I dumped her?

"Dennis" Brian both amused and annoyed. So back to what was left of a murdering rapist's cranium.

"No way, no WAY, a bullet that small did…this."

Brian took a sip of coffee and focused all of his attention on me. "I put that picture on top for a reason Dennis. The ballistics guys are certain he's using some sort of explosive ammunition. Something they've never seen before. If he nails you in a limb you're going to lose it if he hits you center man you're dead. Not on your way to the hospital and they think you'll pull through, dead, DOA, as in forensics will be scraping bits of you out of the wall. They think it's a small gun with a longish barrel. If he pulls it on you don't hesitate because I **don't** want to be attending your funeral. I like you kid. You have the makings of a great cop. **Don't** screw up by getting killed on me."

"He's been saving cops not killing them" I pointed out as another effect of too much beer too fast made itself known.

"Who the hell knows what he's going to do if you put him in a corner. I don't care if he really is an eight year old if he pulls that gun on you, You. Put. Him. **Down**."

"I'll be right back" I got a touch of a head rush as I headed for the little boys room. Lisa glared at me as she finished her routine on my return trip. I ignored her.

"I mean it Dennis" Brian was worried. I didn't know if I should be insulted because he thought I couldn't handle myself or bah, we weren't chicks, I settled for being annoyed.

Instead of answering I pulled another file. Brian jerked it away.

I frowned "I can't shoot a little kid." A couple of teenagers were ripping me apart I didn't need to add the 'male equivalent of Shirley Temple' to my ghosts. My hand hadn't even been **on** the trigger with those kids, how the hell could I live with myself if I was the shooter?

"I'm going to find a way to get you off this case Dennis" Brian swore.

I should tell him not to, not to interfere because Fuller would probably take it personally, or as an excuse to think even less of me. But I didn't because I didn't want this case. Fitzgerald and Ramirez hadn't been kidding (no pun intended). They had next to nothing on 'Gabriel'. Penhall had more solid information in a single night than they had a month. I ransacked the files looking for anything dirty. Any sign of anyone other than the kid. I picked up a copy of Penhall's picture. I considered anyone under fifteen to be avoided like the plague (and honestly I wasn't real fond of teenagers either) but the kid looked really sweet and cute. There was a fair bit on the people he'd helped and that was only the ones who had been willing to talk or that we knew about.

Hm, that was interesting "The notes were written with a QUILL? As in an honest to God bird feather?"

"Whoever he is he's a nut Dennis and you never know what a nut is going to do." I frowned and buried myself in the files.

I put the last one back on the pile now stone cold sober and liking the whole thing less by the minute. "Thanks" I clapped Brian on the shoulder as I tossed enough to cover both of us onto the table and walked out into the cold night.

Fuller was going to be pissed about me being late. The sun was long down and I doubted he was going believe I'd overslept even if it was true. After a couple of hours of nightmares I'd finally given up and taken something. Just some over the counter stuff but apparently once asleep my body had decided to sleep itself out regardless of alarm clocks. I drew a deep breath in the parking lot pulling my 'Officer Booker' persona around myself. A glance in the rear view mirror revealed brash confidence with just the right touch of arrogance. Perfect. I swaggered into the Chapel each footfall announcing that the world was my oyster. Body language shouting there was no mountain I couldn't climb, no obstacle could possibly get in my way, and nothing could touch me. Not true but image was everything. Hansen looked up, some sixth sense knowing I had just entered 'his' territory even from across the building. I changed directions since pushing his buttons was a fundamental part of the character I played here. Truth was it was too easy and I was bored but it had been fun early on and now I was stuck with it or people would ask what was wrong. And who knows I might tell someone the truth.

We were both rescued by Fuller's annoyed "Booker, my office, now."

"Shut the door."

He just stared at me until I shifted uncomfortably.

"You're late."

"I overslept."

"I thought you were out of IAD."

"I am" I hadn't meant for it to sound that bitter. Pull it together Booker I mentally hissed to myself.

An arch of brows "Then why is your **ex**captain complaining about my treatment of you?"

Huh? I blinked at him Blake hadn't had the time of day for me. Except Booker probably didn't KNOW who the captain of IAD was so it was probably Brian who had called not Blake.

"The Slasher photos weren't in the files we were allowed to see and Ioki still hasn't seen them." I could see in his eyes that he had.

He sighed "There seems to be some doubts about your ability to handle this case. That you aren't able to do what might need to be done. What do you think?"

I was suddenly a lot more sympathetic to the rah-rah jocks from a few months ago. I wanted to sit this one out but who wants to admit they belong on the bench? So much for all my advice to Penhall.

"Let me run a few scenarios by you. Let's say the boy **is** the shooter and he pulls that gun on you. Could you put him down?"

"No" I didn't even have to think "If you're asking me if I can live with myself if I have to shoot an eight year old to save my own hide then the answer is no. If you're asking me if I can watch Ioki's back and do my best to help track the boy down then the answer is yes."

"I wasn't done yet, what if he drew on your partner?"

I had to think about that one "Yes".

"Not a lot of conviction there Dennis"

I shrugged miserably unable to meet his eyes.

"And if he were to threaten an innocent bystander?"

"Yes" a little quicker this time and with a bit more certainty behind it.

Fuller sighed "You don't belong on this case but I don't have anyone else to back up Harry right now."

"Sorry to disappoint you" the edge I'd put on that surprised me.

"I'm not disappointed" he steepled his fingers and looked up at me. "Did you really slash my tires during the strike?"

The truth probably wouldn't hurt anything now "No."

"But you took the heat for it and paid for it. Just like you took the fall for Penhall and Hanson's…misbehavior a few months back."

"I didn't know you knew about that."

"I didn't. Dennis you AREN'T in IAD anymore."

"I **know** that."

"I'm not so sure. You came here to play a role with a cover and a character already in place and I don't think you ever stopped. I think we only get to see the real Dennis Booker on rare occasion and from what I can see he's a real good guy. Cares about people, gives some damn good advice, and makes pretty speeches. Pity you won't let anyone meet him." He shifted gears "Dennis why did you become a cop?"

"To catch the bad guys."

"Didn't we all. But that means slightly different things for all of us. For some anyone who breaks the law is a bad guy. I don't think you agree Dennis so who are your bad guys?"

"People who hurt other people" that sounded so lame.

"And THAT is the reason you don't belong on this case, not the fact that I suspect you are way more torn up about those kids than even the department shrink thinks. As far as we can tell so far this is a victimless 'crime' and maybe it shouldn't be called a 'crime' at all. You let Harry take the lead and just make sure that no 'bad guys' take a chunk out of either of you. And Dennis, there's no shame in admitting that you can't shoot a kid. I doubt there's a soul in this building that could do it and walk away. Your work on your last two cases has been exemplary. You're good at what you do and we ARE making a difference even if it doesn't seem like it some times. Those kids were a tragedy but don't let Christine destroy you too."

I nodded and walked out to where Harry was waiting impatiently for me.

I played with my lighter a little more and let my eyes sweep the streets again. No little blond kids or blue-eyed yellow huskies in sight. I shivered, a cold front had moved in and it was brutal out here. Harry was in deep conversation with a little red head who didn't look old enough to be in high school yet. How bad could home be that this was better?

Maybe we should get social services in on that one except their budget had been cut too. Easy for the Congress on the opposite side of the country with cushy jobs and plenty of everything to decide that federal funding for social projects should be reduced they weren't out here in the cold looking at the results. Harry looked thoughtful as the kid wandered further down the street. He ambled over to me.

"Apparently there's bad blood between the Mercy ER and 'Gabriel'" he blew on his hands.

Interesting. No one out here had wanted to talk about the deviant pervert who was beating the crap out of their fellow hustlers but everyone had a story about 'Gabriel' usually sixth hand so there was no telling what was and wasn't true but this was the first I heard of anyone speaking ill of him.

"Want to check it out?"

"It has to be warmer than out here." We turned and walked out of the 'red light' district looking for a cab.

"So, what's the story?"

"Red" what an imaginative street name, I rolled my eyes "got a nasty cut on his arm a few weeks back and went to Mercy both to have it stitched up and to have the stitches removed. Apparently five guys were sharing a dive over on 7th and 23rd. They all got sick. Three of them ended up in Mercy's ER, two refused to go to the hospital and ended up with 'Gabriel'. 'Gabriel' went to the ER while Red was waiting to be seen and asked to speak to one of the doctors. He tried to tell the doctor that the guys didn't have pneumonia but something else something much nastier that required different treatment. The doctor didn't take being told what to do very well. It ended up in a screaming match and the doctor called security on 'Gabriel'. Two weeks later went Red back to get his stitches out and this other guy is bawling in the waiting area so Red buys him a soda. Turns out he's one of the five guys and he's just learned that the three in the hospital didn't make. According to Red he's the only survivor of the five."

"So Gabriel lost one too?" That was a first, every other story had a happy ending.

"Sounds like it, if it's true. The Dr's name is Walker."

We rode the rest of the way in silence. I let Ioki take the lead. Dr. Walker looked more like one of the walking dead than any horror flick character I'd ever seen. His lips were blue, his complexion grey, and his hand limp and icy and he had all the personality of a dead fish. That is until we mentioned that we were cops inquiring about his run in with 'Gabriel'. The change was astounding. The kid had really, really gotten under this guy's skin.

"Finally someone is going to do something about that little **menace** to society" he snarled. "The **brat** had the audacity to march into **my** ER in **my** hospital and call me an unqualifiedly incompetent ignoramus who clearly found his medical license in a Cracker Jack box. The unmitigated nerve of that undersized **quack**, which he also called me, along with moron, idiot, fool, and small minded hypocrite."

Clearly Red was right about the fight at least. The doc had gone from grey to florid.

"Terrible" Ioki murmured encouragingly not that he really needed any.

"I **do** my job, officer, and I **am** capable of making a simple diagnosis" from the edge to his voice someone had recently said he wasn't. Probably a youthful someone with blond ringlets. I really wish I could have seen this fight. It had probably been hysterical, except that four kids might be dead which was a sobering thought. Suddenly it wasn't funny at all. "without the assistance of pint-sized ankle biters with pretensions that they have the least clue about medicine!!"

Ioki had to wipe some flying spit off his face. Fortunately being a little further back I was out of the spray zone.

"Do you have any idea what the boy's real name is or where he lives?"

"Of course not, if I did I would have given his parents a piece of my mind and told them to keep that little **freak** locked in the basement."

"Could we possibly speak with the patients you were discussing?"

"I'm afraid that doctor patient privilege doesn't allow that. Why don't you gentlemen go looking for that juvenile delinquent on the streets? His parents clearly can't be bothered to discipline the creature and he runs wild at all hours."

"So you see him a lot?" Harry asked.

"He is a **millstone** around my neck. My own personal albatross" his eyes flicked to one of the nurses "If you'll excuse me."

No sooner was he out of the room than a very nervous looking nurse with a pile of paperwork slipped in "These are copies of the files you were asking about."

"What about dr. patient privilege?"

"It doesn't extend to the deceased. These are everything I could gather on all eight patients they've argued about and the one rumor has it 'Gabriel' lost along with the statistics on pneumonia deaths for the last five years."

"Are you saying that **every one** of the patients they've fought over is dead?"

"Yes, they are officer. There's an all night diner just up the street, Dr. Walker hates the place."

I took the files "Thank you."

"No problem officer" she looked down at her white shoes "he tried to hit that boy last time he was in here."

"He took a swing at the kid?" I knew it was the kid I was supposed to be tracking but I wanted a crack at the doctor.

"He missed, the boy's quick, just ask the security guards though I don't know how hard they're actually trying."

Harry added his thanks and we headed for the diner.

"She's afraid" he observed as the doors slid shut behind us.

"Of losing her job or of whatever killed nine people is the question."

Harry shrugged "Could be both. You want to start on the files or the statistics?"

"Give me the stats."

We ordered some surprisingly good coffee and got down to work. Since I'd had no idea that life on the streets would require a calculator I was stuck doing math long hand with a pencil borrowed from the very world weary waitress. I did the numbers three times, just to be certain.

"Harry, 'pneumonia' deaths are already triple the 5 year average and we have another month of winter to go."

He looked up from the file "You're kidding me."

I shoved my numbers at him. "Walker's blaming it on HIV related illnesses. Is that in those files of yours?"

"Yeh but only two were positive. The one Gabriel lost had full blown AIDS and one of the first three who wasn't even symptomatic yet."

Well, that explained why 'Gabriel' had failed, his patient had already had both feet in the grave.

I took a drag wrong and coughed my whole chest tightening up "They're mostly homeless kids who are dying" I sounded strangled.

"And we've been with them all week" Harry was scared, hell, I was scared. "I'm going to get this to Fuller. Get someone with a little more medical savvy working on it."

I took another long pull. I was supposed to be giving these things up. "I'll see you back at the Y."

I wondered as I watched Harry leave if he was going to actually show up then I wondered if I was.

The cabbie refused to drive all the way to the Y but I figured I'd survive the three block walk. The night had gotten colder and even down here the streets where all but empty. I shivered and started walking a little faster but not too fast. Image was everything, act like prey and the animals down here will treat you like it. I whirled as squalling tires and panicked screams shattered the night behind me. Headlights temporarily blinded me as there was a sickening thud. The tires squealed again and I flung myself into the shelter of a doorway before the dark Nova could make me into a second casualty. I tried in vain to make out the license plate before turning to look for the victim only to stop stunned in the middle of the sidewalk.

'Gabriel' or Paullus raised his blond head from his examination of the tangle of limbs and bloody meat before him "Will you help?"

I swallowed "He's still alive?"

"With a shot at surviving. First I need you to call it in. Do you have paper and pencil?" I started to fish some out and then blinked. The kid was slitting the guy's throat!

"What the hell?!"

"Cricothroidotomy, his trachea is damaged I need to open an airway. Phones are right down the street. Call 555-0100. It's the main line to County's ER. Ask if Dr. Blackburn or Meyers are in tonight **if so** have them paged NOW, tell them Paul needs an ambulance stat. 4 units A-, lots of saline. Hit and run. Male Caucasian, 16, unconscious with some head trauma, signs of severe internal bleeding, suspect ruptured spleen and kidney damage, broken pelvis, complex compound fracture of left femur, lacerations to the right distal femoral artery. Tachycardic, blood pressure falling. If neither Blackburn or Meyers are in call 555-4863 that's Memorial's ER have them page surgery and give them the same message. Do you need change?"

I shook my head. "As soon as you have **confirmation** that a team is enroute get back here. I need another set of hands. Oh, and see if they can toss in a change of clothes. Now GO."

I sprinted for the phones and nearly lost the quarter before managing to drop it in and dial. Pick up, pick up, pick up, damn it don't you dare be getting coffee, sleeping, or chatting with your boyfriend.

After an eternity "County ER, main desk."

"Are Dr's Blackburn or Meyers in?"

"May I ask who is calling?"

"Are they in?" I practically screamed at the stupid creature.

"Dr. Meyers is on tonight."

"Paul says to have him paged"

"Just a sec" she interrupted "Dr. Meyers, Paul's found you some more work."

A man's voice, "Paul, what's the bullet?"

"Paul's with the victim" I drew a deep breath and repeated his message along with our location.

"Tell him Smith and Jones are rolling and he is under **no** circumstances to give the guy a transfusion. He's already made one donation today and at least two this week. You tell him, he gives any more blood and I will knock him out and put him in restraints if I have to to give him some back. I don't care if he does have hemochromatosis."

"Got it."

"Then get back to him."

I dashed back to Paul who was asking if I knew CPR before I'd even stopped.

"You need me to do compressions?"

"No, he's still got a pulse" He was pumping a bag thing "I need you to take over breathing for him and monitoring his pulse while I stitch up the lacerations in his right leg before he loses it."

"I've had training but I've never actually done the deed."

"I'll talk you through if you need help just keep it nice and steady and let me know if his pulse stops or gets any threadier. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

Once he was certain I really could he switched on his headlamp, grabbed what proved to be a surgical kit (where the hell had the kid gotten that from?), and went to work on the guy's right leg carefully not disturbing the left. I tried to watch but I'd never been a big fan of dissections and this was a living, breathing (with help) human being the kid was down there slicing, sniping, and stitching on and I was a hair's breath from either fainting or puking neither of which would do any good from my image or this poor bastard.

I dared a glance and saw him take the tourniquet off, he muttered something and yanked a little jar out of his bag. Those could **not** be what they looked like. No way.

"What are those?"

"Leeches."

That was very nearly the final straw for my stomach and only the thought that some infection from my puke might finish the poor guy off tipped the balance but I still had to swallow hard several times and my throat burned from the acids.

"Why?" I croaked when I could finally trust my gut again.

"His blood has clotted in the peripheral veins and arteries if circulation isn't restored he's going to lose this leg and he's going to need it given the wreckage of the car made of the other."

"And leeches will help?"

"Modern medicine certainly has nothing better when it comes to restoring blood flow. They work superlatively on frostbite too."

"I'll keep that in mind" I meant it to be sarcastic but it came out very thin.

"I can" he stopped "Do you know your blood type?"

"A positive" I felt the change as his pulse suddenly faltered. Paul already had a needle in his own arm and slid one into the guy's with a practiced ease I wished the nurse at any doctor's office I'd ever been in shared.

"Dr. Meyers said you shouldn't be doing that. That you've already given blood today."

"It's ok, I have hemochromatosis."

"Which is?"

"My body is an order of magnitude more efficient at extracting and storing iron than is normal. The excess iron can lead to organ damage unless bi-weekly donations are made."

He made it vague but I was willing to bet it should be every other week not twice a week, either way, according to Meyers this was going to put him over the limit.

"He made it sound like you've already given your quota."

A flick of the eyes that screamed 'busted' to any undercover cop worth his badge. "You're A+ he's A- as an O- I'm the only option at the moment. I'd hoped the paramedics would have arrived before this became necessary. If I faint yank the needle out of my arm and pack me in the ambulance with him if nothing else you'll make Meyers day and Blackburn's week."

"Where'd you learn to do all this?"

"Too much quality time in wars zones and refugee camps. You would be amazed what you can pick up" I had absolutely no doubt that this was the medic but those words now made it a probability he was the shooter as well using God only knew what picked up in some hell hole. Though I did wonder how he had gotten a weapon back into the country. "You gave the right location right?"

If I hadn't already been well on my way to human popsicle that would have sent a chill up my spine. I thought about it. "Yes. He said Smith and Jones were rolling."

"So where the hell are they?" Paul muttered "Can you keep bagging if I have to open him up?"

I squeaked a "What?" before clearing my throat and continuing in a more normal tone "What are you planning?"

"He's bleeding out from the ruptured spleen. If they don't show soon it's going to become a choice between certain death if I don't open him up and likely death if I do once the left lung collapses on top of everything else."

"So are you Gabriel or Paul?" I asked not wanting to think about emergency exploratory surgery in the middle of the street.

"Technically Paullus but Paul works."

"I'm Dennis."

"No one's giving you a street name yet?" he asked nearly invisible pale brows arching under the thin light of the few functional street lights.

"I'm kinda new down here."

"Almost two weeks" he retorted. I could see suspicion building in his intensely blue eyes, not a child's eyes, not even a young man's eyes, wary almost feral and agelessly ancient, I could see how someone could think they belonged to an archangel for they were utterly out of place in his child's visage. Abruptly the laser glare softened and he swayed.

"Paul?!"

He pulled the needle out of his arm and the guy's before rocking back onto his heels just a touch unsteadily.

"You really think he's going to make it?"

"If Smith & Jones get down here in time. Meyer's is almost as good as I am with trauma cases" he shrugged "Give me enough blood and saline and I could have him out of danger right here."

"Then why call it in?"

"One, I don't have enough blood or saline and two, that" he pointed to the left leg "is WAY out of my skill set. A kid's got to know is limitations. If I was the only doctor in town I might as well just take it off, he'd get more use out of a stump than I could give him. I'm one of the best at trauma, disease, malnutrition, and I can certainly play midwife in a pinch but I'm useless on the fancy stuff. About bloody time" he muttered.

He started gathering the used supplies into a biohazard bag that he pulled from his pack, then pulled off his surgical gloves. When his blood soaked shirt went into the bag I began to wonder if he hallucinating either from blood loss or cold since he hadn't been wearing a coat in this frigid night. Then I heard the wail of the siren in the distance. Paul had very good ears or I'd been listening to way too much loud music. Nah, the kid had good ears. And while I was wondering about the mystery that was Paul how had he managed to keep his scarf from getting as bloody as the rest of his clothes?

When the ambulance roared into sight he grabbed his pack leaving the biohazard bag behind and me stuck still bagging for the victim. Clever. He gave himself a solid lead and a clear escape route but didn't leave completely.

"Jeeze, kid give us a break this is your fourth disaster today." Smith turned out to be a burly black man a little older than me while Jones was an older, stocky, blond woman. They descended on the victim with the practiced ease of long partnership while holding up a running comfortable conversation with Paul.

Paul shrugged "It's hardly my fault that there is a superfluity of hostility amongst our fellow men today."

Jones tossed something at Paul which he snapped out of the air easily. Jones seemed to relax a little seeing him alert as I backed out of the way and toward Paul. Who looked none to happy with the fact that I was now free of my obligations of keeping the victim breathing.

"High iron pre-natal vitamins?"

"Meyers says if you're going to keep draining yourself at the clip you've been at lately you're going to need them."

"Thanks, now get Breeze in the ambulance and get him out of here."

"Not until we see you take one. Meyers orders unless you'd like to come with us" Smith tossed a small bag at him which he also caught. They were checking his reflexes because they were worried about the kid. Likely with good reason.

Paul rolled his eyes but dutifully pulled a bottle of juice out of the bag at his feet and took one. He drained the bottle without ever taking those feral eyes off us. He flipped a shirt out of the bag and stuffed his arms into it while speaking "If they can have them get a photo of his left leg before they start working on it. He's got a partial plate imprinted in it. Full plate LFT 461, black Nova. Maybe if the police can't be bothered to arrest the Cook on a drug charge they can at least get him on attempted vehicular homicide. Let Blackburn know that I haven't seen a new case of the disease that is apparently a figment of my overactive juvenile imagination in six days."

"You got it, and get some rest kid, you're looking ragged around the edges. Sure you don't want to come with us?"

Paul shook his head and took a step back but he stayed until they had Breeze safely in the rig.

"The Cook?"

"Biggest methamphetamine dealer and manufacturer in the city. His main lab is just around the corner and down a bit" those sharp eyes were back on me "if he keeps expanding his operation unopposed this city will shortly become the meth capital of the country."

"If you want the cops to do something about it why don't you tell them?" 

"I have left a number of anonymous tips" he paused "Officer. I'm afraid I don't know you're last name but I'm assuming you're newly assigned to the Chapel. Officer Hanson 'collared'' his lips twisted a little on the word "the villainous rouge that attacked Aaron and the others so why do you linger here? Has Fitzgerald become so desperate that she would risk her brother officers in this midden merely for me? I don't know if I should be appalled or flattered."

"We just have some" the kid bolted. I was not going to pull my gun on this kid. I had a good foot and a half of height on him there was no way Paul could out run me but he'd given himself a good lead and while I was making up ground he knew how to use the terrain to his advantage. This was a kid who had a lot of practice at being chased. I rounded the corner and he was just gone. How the hell?

He had to have gone to ground somewhere close. There were several derelict buildings to choose from eenie-meenie-minee-moe that one.

I got half way up the stairs when there was a chuff behind me. I whirled, nothing. Grinning at my own attack of nerves I turned back to find myself face to face with a half grown wolf. 

15


	3. And Get Hunted

Author's notes: The wolf pack in Yosemite is, so far as I know, a complete fabrication on my part (as if the rest of the story isn't….) since while coyotes are common some biologists are of the opinion that wolves never inhabited the Sierra Nevada even before they were wholesale slaughtered in the rest of the country.

I honestly have no idea what the structure of the CDC surveillance system was 1988-89 but I do know that the Provider based sentinel networks weren't rolled out until 1994. I honestly hope that the scenario I present in this chapter was never a possibility.

And a hearty thank you to all my reviewers!! Rubydoo, I'm updating as fast as trying to write 4 fanfic novels and real life will let me….

**A Place to Call Home: Chapter 3: …And Get Hunted**

Booker

I froze, utterly motionless. This was no husky, Penhall's first instinct of wolf had been absolutely correct. I'd had a girlfriend in high school named Cassie, longest relationship of my life because she'd never stopped talking long enough to ask me to. Great girl, it was a shame we'd moved, I'd probably still be dating her or even married to her by now. She was one of those people who gets intensely into something, researches it to death, and then three weeks later was off on something else. She was the one who'd given me a love for poetry that I did my best to keep hidden. One of her little fetishes had been to own a wolf, or at least a high content wolf-dog. We'd been old enough to drive at the time so we'd trekked out to the breeders. The woman in charge had been brutally honest. Cassie had been charmed and had cried the whole way home when she realized she could never properly keep one in the city. I had put in the best performance of my life because even with a 12 foot electricity reinforced fence between us I had been scared shitless of the alpha male. He hadn't snarled, or growled, or really done anything but stare. Same stare this half grown pup had. I ransacked my memory for that day eight years ago but mostly I remembered that I'd been the luckiest guy in school since my girlfriend's parents still believed in free love and her dad had undoubtedly been better at steering me through the shoals of my junior year than mine would have if he could have been bothered to stick around. Delightful as this little jaunt down memory lane was and as annoyed as I was at my mother for moving us yet AGAIN that wasn't helping me to figure out what to do against White Fang here. I was damn lucky that the pup seemed to have no inclination to take the initiative and was patiently waiting for my move. One thing I remembered very, very clearly was the breeder telling us that per capita wolf-dogs killed more people than any other breed for two reasons, one a wolf's jaw was fundamentally different that a dog's, more powerful even than a pit bull's, because the leverage was much better, and two wolves grow up. According to the breeder dogs were essentially brain damaged wolves with deformed jaws. Most dogs never make a play for being alpha but once a wolf starts to mature as an owner you just might find yourself facing a rebellious teenager that potential outweighs you armed with teeth capable of crushing bones in a single bite. She'd stressed that wolves and wolf-dogs weren't cruel or vicious by nature, that she'd never had a serious encounter but that it was something one always had to keep in mind. Personally I'd concluded anyone who even considered the idea of wanting to own a wolf was a little nuts (Cassie included, hey, she'd put up with me months longer than any other girl). It had been a full day affair and we'd seen wolves and wolf-dogs of all ages. A pup of this size and age (a **mere** 70 -90 pound 'pre-teen') shouldn't have the stare and stance of a seasoned alpha. I reminded myself that this monster had been keeping a crippled old woman company without ripping her throat out so he was capable of behaving himself.

I licked my chapped lips and soothing said "Hey, Yeller." Absolutely no reaction of any kind but then 'Yeller' was just what the old lady had called him.

"You do realize you are interfering with a police officer in the execution of his duties? I could have you arrested for that." He arched one golden brow at me and cocked his head to the side. At least the stare was a little less intense. I took a cautious step back and he stayed where he was so I took a second. How far could a half grown pup leap? I actually had a fair idea from that day of what an adult could do (since we'd gotten a demo) but I had no idea for this guy. I was still in range for an adult but maybe I was clear. Slowly and cautiously I started to reach for my gun but paused when he whined.

"I'm not going to hurt Paul, swear to God on my mother's honor, but the kid's out here without so much as a coat. You might not have noticed under that pelt of yours but it's fricking freezing" I finished pulling the gun and got an INSTANTANIOUS switch to full submission. The pup **knew** what a gun was. That was just spooky. He slunk forward on his belly tail tightly tucked ears down. I turned to the side to let him pass feeling like a jerk. I should be glad that the kid had some backup. I started up the stairs only to be yanked off my feet from behind with my gun flying out of my hand as my elbow slammed into the ground. I rolled instinctively protecting my throat and lashed out catching the pup in the ribs. There wasn't as much force behind the blow as I would have liked but he 'offed' and it gave me time to snatch the gun back up. I smacked him in the face with it and he yelped.

I scuttled back breathing hard "Back off" I snarled at him and was rewarded with a rapid backpedal. I cocked the gun and pointed it at him. He managed to hunker down even lower and hid his face. I fought to get my breath back as the little (relatively he was still bigger than a full grown lab) wolf trembled with his huge paws hiding his eyes. How could I shoot that? How could I turn my back on him again? Hmm, he and the kid were wearing matching scarves. What was it with Paul and scarves? He'd been wearing one in Penhall's springtime picture too.

"Get OUT of here! GO ON, GET!!" Blue eyes blinked up at me for a second before he took off. The breeder had told us adult wolves could sprint at 40 mph, I think 'Yeller' had them beat.

I dusted myself off, started to holster my gun when I noticed the blood on it, felt like a jerk again for cracking the poor cub in the mouth, before going up the stairs, slipping through the broken door, and flicking on penlight I had stashed in my pocket. Not exactly the ritz but it was awfully empty and clean. Usually derelict buildings in this part of town rapidly became inhabited by at least a handful of the down and out but there was no sign of that here. Confident that Paul wasn't in the first room, and let's face it my scuffle with 'Yeller' had probably given him enough time to scoot out the back and be long gone. I frowned I should just get down to the Y before the sun came up on me but I'd had to fight my way in I wanted to see what else was around. I was debating between the basement and the upstairs when I felt the cold pressure of a gun barrel under my ear.

"Hey, Boss, look at what I found snooping around."

Someone who hadn't had a shower in a while took the penlight away and with a gun trying to separate my ear from the rest of my head I was not inclined to argue. At least two adults and from the quiet (and not so quiet movement there were others). A door opened and the spill of light was accompanied by a strong whiff of chemicals. Oh, hell, 'Yeller' hadn't been trying to defend Paul; he'd been trying to keep me out of the Cook's kitchen. This was the meth lab. No back up. No one even knew where I was and who knew when (or if as petrified as he'd looked) Harry was going to show up. It could be hours before anyone missed me. Stupid, stupid, stupid!!! I deserved to be shot for going off alone like this. I was a trained police officer. I was supposed to know better.

"What do you want, boy?"

"To make a deal. I hear you're a business man" I packed ever bit of brash bravado I could into my voice.

The Cook's dark eyes flicked to the guy behind me "Has he been checked yet?"

"Just found him. Haven't had a chance." The Cook didn't move from his position at the bottom of the basement stairs.

"Then do it now" exasperation threaded his voice. Must be hard to get good help in this part of town. The Cook was a poster boy for 'Geeks Gone Bad'. And I don't think I'd ever seen a better example of Shakespeare's 'lean and hungry' look in my life either. I guess ambition coupled with brains must have been enough to keep him on top of his little band of a dentist's worst nightmare men. I tried to get a count as I was very thoroughly frisked. Eight, nine, more? It didn't take them long to find my gun, cuffs, and badge.

"Pig!" the one behind me snarled as my own cuffs were snapped around my wrists.

"You kill a cop and there isn't a hole deep enough to hide you" I bragged to the Cook not letting any of the fear knotting my stomach into my voice but the Cook only smiled.

"What makes you think they will ever find your body? You should have stuck to your assignment," that was like a kick in the gut. The Cook had someone on the force in his pocket that must be why Paul's tips had been ignored "tracked down that little thorn in my side, and minded your own business." The Cook sighed "What a waste. Get rid of him."

God, I'm only 22, I'm too young to die. Christine might have made me feel worthless but she'd never made me feel suicidal. I LIKED being alive, nightmares and all. I forced myself not to react, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. My only hope was that Paul had noticed and called it in. I prayed the kid didn't come back and try something heroic primarily because I didn't want the death of an eight year old to be the last thing I ever saw and because I didn't think I'd survive the ribbing if he managed it.

"Can we have some fun first?" I didn't like the thought of what that might entail but every second of life was a second in which I might either think up something clever ('cause there's no such thing as a no win situation) or the cavalry might arrive (embarrassing as hell but preferable to being shot with my own gun which looked to be the direction that things were going).

The Cook checked his watch, nodded a bit reluctantly, locked up his lab, and came up the stairs. Was that a touch of sympathy in his dark eyes? If it was it wasn't enough to save me as I was marched into a windowless inner room and the lights were flicked on. So this building wasn't half as abandoned as it seemed. They laughed as they took turns holding and punching. Fortunately for me none of them were exactly jocks and for the moment they seemed content just to use their fists so while there was a lot of swinging going on and it wasn't any fun it was bearable. Until someone decided that kicking might be more effective (with the added bonus that I couldn't bite anymore that way) and one of them knocked me off my feet. Cowards. I wanted to kill them all as I tried to protect myself with my hands secured behind my back.

"Stop" the Cook barked. One last sneaker to my ribs (thank God this wasn't a country western crowd, those pointy cowboy boots would probably REALLY hurt). "Is that smoke?"

"You three, go check it out" I played possum on the floor pretending to be more hurt than I was as a lot more than three left. Meth labs were notoriously flammable it looked like the cockroaches were scurrying for cover. Not that burning to death had much appeal.

"Let's get out of here boss" the greasy git who had gotten the drop on me (and who had decided that my gun was nicer than his own) demanded.

"Finish him first and make certain you use his gun."

Barrels really do look huge when you're on the wrong end of them. Hanson should enjoy the irony except the Cook seemed certain I'd never be found, just as well, for all the pomp and circumstance a cops funeral generated there probably wouldn't be a single real mourner. Hadn't been close to Mom in years, she'd mourn the little boy I'd been, Brian would mourn what I might have become no one would actually mourn me because no one knew me anymore. I wondered when 'the moment' is when you die, just before, in the instant, just after? I'd been hoping to live a little longer before I learned the answer to that question.

"You know" I said determined to at least have some last words "With all that money you're making you could at least get your employees some decent dentures."

The Cook's lip actually twitched and he looked away. In that moment a small form swung down out of the remnants of ceiling above us sending the gun flying and dropping the greasy git like a rock. Paul managed to catch my gun on its way to the floor and brought it around to bear on the Cook before he could react. Not exactly fast on the draw was the Cook. Wouldn't have lasted a second in one of those old westerns. But then the Cook might not even be packing, unlikely but not impossible.

He might have had sympathy for me but he clearly hated Paul "Why can't you just **die**?"

"You'd be amazed how many times I've been asked that" Paul retorted "Now back up."

The Cook smirked "You don't have the guts."

I flinched as my gun spoke and blood ran from the Cook's left ear "Next one goes right between your eyes and if you think I don't have the nerve ask your pal Jones. Oh, how silly of me to forget. He wouldn't listen either and look where that got him. He died just fine. **Back. Up**." The kid's voice was as cold and cutting as an Antarctic wind.

This time he moved "What kind of fool starts a fire in the same building as a meth lab? And I know damn well you know it's here brat you've snitched about it often enough. Do you really think my men will let you get out of here alive?"

"Do you really think your men are within a block?" Paul riposted "You don't pay enough for them to burn alive for you. I called in an officer down before coming in, directly to someone you DON'T own. Units are already rolling, have been for four minutes. Speaking of which" I felt the cuffs come loose as Paul put some distance between himself and all of us "we have 4 minutes 45 seconds plus or minus 10 seconds before the fire hits the lab and this whole building heads for the stratosphere."

"Plus or minus 10?" I asked getting to my feet.

"There are only so many hours in a day; I focused on medicine not demolitions. I suggest we move. You" he pointed my gun at the Cook "haul Sneezy out of here."

"Can I have my gun back?"

"Promise not to hit me in the face with it?" the kid was well and truly pissed, at me. So he'd seen me clobber his wolf.

"Sorry, I thought he was going to attack."

"For the record if he was serious he'd have ripped out your throat before you ever even knew he was there. The next time 'Yeller'" you could here the quotation marks around the name "tries to tell you something, do everyone a favor and listen." Interesting that odd slight accent was stronger and his vocabulary was significantly plainer than earlier.

"I thought you wanted something done about the lab" I said as I covered the Cook who was dragging the still napping Sneezy. Who was coming up with these names?

"I prefer to leave police work to the police" Paul snapped "I fear I lack the stature to make a good vigilante nor am I a pyromaniac by preference. Fire is a fool's weapon as likely to turn on its user as to destroy the enemy but you didn't leave me much choice." So far it wasn't too hard to breath, hell, my favorite strip joint had more smoke than this on a Friday night.

"Why come after me? You could have gotten away clean"

"I put a rather high premium on being able to look at myself in the mirror and like what I see. Leaving people to die makes that difficult. Besides I hate when the good guy dies even if he is prone to panic over a puppy" he paused and glanced up "Oh hell."

The Cook smirked "Maybe you should have checked the building **before** you set it ablaze. Especially given that philosophy of yours."

"How many?"

The Cook shrugged "I leave that up to Sneezy and his friends."

Paul dropped something in my pocket "It's a topical for bruises. Look for the guys in the neon yellow paint. Get them out of here and make certain **NO ONE** including the firefighters comes into this building because anyone in here in 3 and a half minutes is dead."

I managed to snag the kid's arm "We're both leaving or neither of us is."

"And leave him free to poison more people? He'd like that. Every bit of evidence against him is going to go up with this building except that Nova and you. Who do you think a jury will believe more you or me? Stop **him**." The kid twisted out of my one handed grip like he'd been greased and vanished into the swirling smoke. "I swear to God and on my mother's honor I'll make it out" drifted back.

"You know, this might be worth it if it finally gets rid of Gabriel" I wondered what Paul'd done to the cook to earn that kind of hate.

"Shut up before I put a bullet in you and go after the kid" I had to force my finger to ease up on the trigger because that's EXACTLY what I wanted to do. Put this sleeze down and save what was probably to only person in the building worth saving. The one I was supposed to be after. I wasn't sure if the headache was from the pounding or the moral quandary I was in.

"With an attitude like that it's no wonder you were a washout" the Cook started to say something else but choked on the smoke and then we were back at the door. Just as the Cook was none to gently dragging Sneezy down the steps an ambulance arrived from one direction and a black and white along with what looked like Capt. Fuller's car from another.

"Dennis! Paullus called to say you were down" Harry looked down right panicked, Fuller looked relieved, and I wondered where the kid had gotten the direct number to the Chapel and how many traffic laws they'd broken getting here so quickly even this late, early, whatever.

"Keep him covered and back everybody up to the end of the block" I said without ever taking my eyes off the Cook "There's a large meth lab in the basement and when the fire hits it…" I didn't have to finish. While Harry cuffed the Cook and started reading him is rights (despite not having a clue about the charges) and a couple of paramedics descended on the still out for the count Sneezy (how hard had the kid hit him?), I turned to go back in after Paul but Fuller got in the way.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"There are people upstairs. Paul went after them." I tried Paul's trick but either Fuller already knew it or I wasn't as good at it.

"You let the firefighters do their job."

They weren't even here yet "Two minutes 45 seconds."

"Until what?"

"Until the building blows up killing anyone still inside. Le'me go."

"No way in hell" Fuller managed to drag me off the porch as my ribs and face suddenly made all kinds of complaints I hadn't noticed before "Dennis the only place you're going is the ER."

"It isn't that bad" I scoffed staring at the building where the first flickers of flame were beginning to make themselves known among the trailing wisps of smoke that suddenly swelled into great plumes. Come on, kid, don't you **dare** die in my place.

"Adrenaline" Fuller muttered as he kept steadily backing me further from the building. He barked some orders to cordon off the street and I tried to get around him but he pressed on something and it took everything I had not to end up on my knees. I think I might have screamed but I was too busy seeing white to recall. I was certainly blinking hard to keep tears out of my eyes (which felt rather puffy). "You're more hurt than you think."

I couldn't argue as I half sagged in his arms, panting, trying to recover the breath I'd abruptly lost, watching the damn door for that thrice damned kid. Don't you **dare** die! Another ambulance pulled up behind us just as the first figure stumbled out of the house. All four of them were too tall to be Paul but maybe he was just lost in their midst. I grabbed at one of the girls as they went past "Where's Paul?"

"Who?"

"The little boy."

"He went back after Joey." He couldn't have more than a few seconds left (plus or minus 10). Fuller tried to make me go further but I dug in my heels.

"Dang, man how did you go from the one giving assistance to the one needing it?" Smith grumbled.

"Into the ambulance, Booker" Fuller ordered.

"Not until I know about Paul."

"You tried to catch Paul. Bless your heart" Smith shook his corn-rowed head clucking his tongue like I was the world's biggest fool "that would explain it."

"Paul's still in the building?" Smith had sounded amused but Jones was worried.

"Kid can handle himsel" the building chose that moment to explode in a rain of glass, dust, and shattered bricks. We huddled in the back of the ambulance until the worst of the debris was finished falling.

"I'm sure he made it out. Kid's slicker than WD-40 on ice." I noticed he grabbed his CB though and asked the other crews if they'd seen any sign of Paul.

"Ask about a Joey, that's who he went back for" I winced; Fuller's car was going to need a lot more than new tires this time.

"317 calling 325."

"325 here" Smith nearly jerked the cable out.

"Our favorite not quite so golden anymore boy popped up down here just as the building went up with a Joey in tow."

"Keep him there." Fuller snapped.

"You think the kid ever came within range?" the paramedic on the other end scoffed.

"How'd he look?" from Jones who looked even more worried than I felt.

"A little singed around the edges, and Blackburn's going to be upset, he lost those curls she's so fond of but he was moving well enough to out pace a couple of uniforms so he can't be too badly off." I wanted to see the kid with my own eyes not get some second hand hearsay report that he was ok. Besides as Fuller had pointed out he could be moving on adrenaline. He could hole up anywhere down here and die wounded and alone and never be found.

"Lay back Booker and start talking." Fuller ordered.

It didn't take long to sum up events. I expected Fuller to rip me another one but he just nodded while Jones dabbed a daunting amount of blood off my face. I hadn't been kidding with the guys when we were talking about bullies, I'd just always had enough of a chip on my shoulder that no one really bothered me and on the rare occasion they did, well, one of the few things my dad had taught me was both the importance of a single well placed blow and how to throw said devastating punch. I had very rarely needed a second. Never been in a knock down drag out fight, still hadn't really. While I had been plenty afraid of one of the wastoids getting the drop on me and putting a bullet in my brain but I'd never once doubted my ability to take them all in a fight. I'd had the crap beat out of me tonight, not that I'd let myself think about it at the time, I'd just been hoping for them to make a mistake that would give me a way out. Instead I'd been helpless as an infant, bound in my own cuffs, while a **child** saved my ass at risk to his own. I shivered and hoped desperately that Fuller just thought it was cold since Jones was efficiently stripping my upper torso so she could check my ribs. I hissed as she hit a particularly sore spot. Same one Fuller had used to make his point.

"Sorry."

'Officer Booker' wouldn't let this pass without comment. Reputation to maintain and all that even if I did just want to crawl down a hole, "Hey, no problem, usually I at least have to buy a girl dinner to get this kind of attention" not quite as brash as usual but I backed it up with my best bedroom eyes.

Jones rolled hers "Pretty boy like you can do a lot better than an old lady like me. Besides I'm spoken for."

"I'm crushed" I joked "sinking in the depths of despair" I continued melodramatically.

"Booker" Fuller half growled but he also grinned a little. Good. Cover intact. "How is he?"

"Dr. Blackburn is going to want a full work up but I'm not seeing any signs of internal bleeding or altered mental state beyond terminal testosterone poising. Maybe one cracked rib but all in all I'd say you were pretty lucky if the Cook's entire 'entourage', as Paul likes to call them, had a go at you while you were cuffed."

"How did you know I was cuffed?"

"Hard to miss these" she raised my hands until I could see the deep welts my cuffs had left. I hadn't even realized I'd fought that hard to get free. I shivered again.

"Any loose teeth?"

I ran my tongue around but while the inside of my cheeks were raw meat everything seem secure in its socket. I tried to give her one of my cocky trademark grins that pissed Tommy off so but she protested "Hey, I just got the bleeding stopped." As she reached for something she knocked the tube Paul had given me out of my pocket. "Paul must like you. He doesn't just give this stuff out." She squeezed some out onto her palm but Fuller stopped her before she could put any on me.

"What is it?"

"One of Paul's herbal remedies. Don't worry Dr. Blackburn insisted he submit some samples to the lab. I recognize the smell. No illegal substances and no known toxins. You could eat it if you wanted to and what it does for bruises is incredible."

What ever had been keeping me going suddenly and completely petered out leaving me cold, aching, and exhausted but the question of where Paul was still bothered me, "Do you really think he got out OK?" Man, I sounded like I was Paul's age. So much for my image.

Jones started in on my shoulder before locking gazes with me "John isn't given to lying, especially about something that important. He made it out, again."

Smith snorted "Kid's a cat, nine lives and always lands on his feet running."

Jones frowned, "If he's only got nine then he's gone through them all already. Why is it you guys always think you're invulnerable until you end up in flat on your back in one of these things?"

I hissed out as she pressed harder than was even vaguely comfortable (not that I was going to admit it) "Testosterone poisoning?"

"I used to think that but the kid hasn't even hit puberty yet. You all must be brain damaged from birth." Clenching my jaw muscles hurt almost as much as her pounding. She must have noticed because she suddenly eased up, flushing slightly "Sorry."

"It's ok, I like it rough."

Another roll of her no nonsense brown eyes.

"If you're concerned about the boy why did you lie to the Detectives who came to talk to you about Gabriel?"

She shrugged as she continued to work Paul's mystery goo into my ribs. I had to admit that now that she wasn't pounding it into me it felt pretty good and the areas she'd abused were even feeling better.

"We don't know a Gabriel at County. We know Paul. I suggest you talk to Dr. Blackburn since we're here." Her dark eyes were guarded and openly hostile.

I started to rise but both Fuller and Jones blocked me "Come on, guys, I'm not **that** hurt."

Fuller tucked a blanket around me "Piece of advice, Dennis, the world doesn't choose to pamper you often, when it does, don't fight."

I sighed and gave it. I think Fuller expected more of a fight but a hell with it, besides maybe I could weasel more info out about Paul as a casualty than a cop because now I was rabidly curious and deeply concerned.

They did at least let me transfer myself from the gurney to the bed and keep the blanket since apparently someone had forgotten to pay the heating bill in the County ER accounting dept.

Dr. Blackburn proved to be a very well stacked statuesque red head that I would have made a serious play for if she'd been ten years younger. Actually as she leaned down to probe my ribs I got view that had me rethinking the idea, I mean an older woman wasn't necessarily a bad thing and as the Head of Emergency Medicine she probably made a tidy bit. I wouldn't mind being her boy toy at all, for a little while, because I had that whole six week relationship thing down pat. I could play sick until the ribs weren't quite so sore then we could play Doctor. I mean I'd never played it with a real M.D. Suddenly I was looking into a pair of bright hazel eyes. Busted, so why not go for it? I couldn't give her my trademark grin with my split lips (besides it hurt like all get out) so I settled for some bed room eyes.

She gave me a speculative look. The goods might be a little worse for wear right now but bruises fade. "Well, he can't be too badly hurt" she told the slightly dumpy looking nurse (though she did have a sweet smile) "but I want a chest film and a CT just to be certain. Any allergies to medication?"

"None that I know of."

"Do you need anything" I leered as best I could "for the pain?" she continued amused. She thought I was cute. I could do cute much better than any of the Jump Street crowd would guess. At least for about 6 weeks. Dad's legacy was one devastating punch. Mom's was the ability to rapidly make shallow acquaintances thanks to her policy that we should move at least once a year. Somehow I doubted either of them had been trying to prepare me for a career as an undercover cop but both skills were priceless in this job.

"I can handle it" was what I said even though I really did want something rather badly. Pride and image versus comfort. Decisions decisions. My image and pride had already taken more of a beating tonight than my body so they probably needed all the help they could get.

"Write him something" you could hear Fuller's eyes rolling in his voice. I'd have to thank him for that later. "And I need to talk to you about Paul."

It was like a stone wall dropped into place around her "I have nothing to say to you."

"How's Breeze?" I asked and she softened just a little.

"You were the one Paul drafted?"

"Yeah. How is the kid?"

She gave me a look that said I wasn't old enough yet to call Breeze a kid. "He's in surgery giving the orthopedic surgeons one hell of a workout."

"I'm worried about Paul" I confessed putting every scrap of it into my eyes.

She fiddled with the chart. So was she, "So am I. I have patients to see, you have an appointment with X-ray, **IF **we're slow while I'm waiting for your films to get back then I'll talk to **you** about Paul."

"Thank you."

Instead of a little curtain area I got an honest to God room when I was wheeled back. Fuller was no where in sight and neither was Dr. Blackburn. I sighed and my eyes sagged shut.

I woke with the certain knowledge that someone was in the room. I opened my just in time to see Dr. Blackburn trying to escape.

"Is that coffee I smell?"

Her shoulders sagged.

"Hey, I'm not that hard on the eyes am I?"

She turned, passed me one of the cups, and sat down "No, not even pummeled black and blue."

I took a sip. If I managed to score, I would be making the coffee. This was worse than Penhall's which was saying quite a bit. I settled for letting it warm my hands.

"Have you seen him, since the explosion?"

She shook her head "No word other than John's but he's very reliable."

"Did Capt. Fuller leave?"

"He muttered something about guys in yellow paint and being back for you in" she checked her watch "about an hour."

"How long was I asleep?" Long enough to stiffen up like a rusty axel my body informed me.

"Not long, you need more rest" she was really hoping to get out of this, and she really wanted to talk. I could sympathize I really wanted to catch Paul but not for any of the department's reasons. Nasty moral dilemma but it was tough to dislike the cocky little brat, especially since I essentially owed him my life.

She twined one of her coppery curls between her fingers. You don't often get to see Dr's nervous at least I hadn't ever.

"When did you first meet him?"

"Just before last Halloween" over a year ago, so the kid had been around longer than we thought "he came through those doors riding cowboy"

"Cowboy?"

"Straddling someone on a gurney while doing CPR. In this case a young Hispanic gangbanger whose friends brought him in rather than an ambulance. He should have been DOA except someone in the field had managed to re-inflate a lung and do a quick patch on a clipped aorta with a surgeon's skill and what looked like sewing kit. Once we got him stable and up to the OR I asked friends who had done it and was informed that it was the Lobo de Oro."

"The golden wolf?"

"You don't know how relieved I was when the red-light crowd started calling him Gabriel. I've been scared to death someone was going to listen to that nonsense about him being a werewolf and shoot him."

"Werewolf?" I took a sip of the coffee and regretted it. What people will come up with. I love a good horror flick but, come on, so the kid owned a wolf that didn't **make** him one.

"One of the gangbanger's dad's got a summer job with the park service out in Yosemite. He ended up helping to radio collar the resident wolf pack."

"Yosemite HAS a wolf pack?"

"The biologists in the park have been trying to keep that a secret. Most of the members are apparently similar to coyotes in color and so that's what people are told they've seen on rare occasion that they're glimpsed. They tell me that it's the only known pack in the entire Sierra Nevada. It was, up until recently, also the only know pack with fully adult male members who's alpha male was a half grown pup who was nicknamed the Lobo de Oro for his beautiful golden pelt. That much is fact. Now for the urban legend. As you probably know dog fighting is on the rise and that the gangs are fiercely competitive about the ferocity of their dogs. Someone decided that if he was dominant enough to lead a pack as a pup he'd be the perfect fighting dog. They claim to have managed in an afternoon what an expert team failed to do all summer, to tranquilize and capture the Lobo de Oro. But being gangbangers and not biologists according to them they discovered that they'd overdosed the pup when they got back to the city and he was barely breathing. Accusations, turned into arguments, that ended in a shooting in the ensuing confusion the Lobo de Oro disappeared and Paul showed up. They still call him the Lobo de Oro in some of the Hispanic parts of town. They say that the wolf still looks like a half grown pup a year later because the boy still is. The Yosemite biologists came down but they never found a trace of their missing pup. Poor thing probably ended up a pelt."

"You've never actually seen the wolf?" The bite marks in the back of my coat were a pretty good argument that the Lobo de Oro (ah, I'm an American 'Yeller' he is and 'Yeller' he shall remain) was alive and well.

She rolled her eyes "There is no wolf" My face hurt too much to smirk and I refrained from pointing out the rips in my jacket. "It's an urban legend just like the belief that Paul is Gabriel in disguise." She kept darting little glances out to the desk clearly hoping for a disaster to give her reason to escape. Or that Fuller would show up so I would leave before she had to tell me anything concrete.

"I don't want to hurt him. Do you know where he lives?"

If she wrapped that curl any tighter she was going to start cutting off circulation. A doctor should know better.

"He lives on the streets officer."

"Dennis, please, then shouldn't you have called social services?"

"He threatened to disappear if I did. I thought this way I could at least keep an eye on him, gain his trust, establish a rapport" she shrugged letting the curl bounce back "I thought I had. I thought I had him. He came so damn close." She rose to pace, frustrated. "I could see how much he wanted it. I actually rendered him speechless, then stuttering and that boy is nothing if not flawlessly articulate" a deep breath "he's terrified of something or someone Officer Booker. Not nervous, not a little leery, not afraid. Terrified."

"Of what?"

"I don't KNOW" her eyes said 'that's what I want you to figure out'.

"OK, what did you offer him?"

"A residency and emancipated minor status so he could become a fully accredited physician in five years and my spare bedroom so that he wouldn't be sleeping on the streets while he did it."

"Can you do that?"

"There is a battery of tests that both US educated doctors and those immigrating here must pass to become licensed physicians in the States. Paul may be young but his masculine ego isn't. I had Meyers throw down a gauntlet no one with a Y chromosome could let slide, we negotiated a truce, and I spent the better part of a week putting him through his paces. In his areas of 'specialty' he had better scores than I do though I certainly wouldn't go to him for any kind of advanced specialty surgery or chemotherapy since he's somewhere between clueless and hopeless with those. But down here he isn't just brilliant for his age, Dennis, if he were sixty he would still be a brilliant emergency room doctor. With elective procedures you have the opportunity to plan, run every test you can think of, and mull it all over. Down here, in the middle of a trauma, it's life and death, right **NOW**, every split second can be critical and if you guess wrong" she let the thought hang "We call medicine a science but in the ER it's still more than half art and Paul is Mozart and da Vinci in one feisty little package. I **want** him on my staff not just because I have at least one nightmare a week about him being the one rolled in here on a gurney or him just disappearing forever into some shallow grave but because **this** is where he belongs." She sloshed her coffee a little as she enunciated her point but didn't notice, "and I could see in his eyes just how much he **wants** to be here when I made that offer. For a split second he looked like I'd just handed him the moon and then, God, the fear and despair just **smashed** the light right out of his eyes. He told me "I…I'm fl-flattered that you h-hold me in such high regard but I, I **must** respect…respectfully decline. It would only endanger your, the patients, and my life. I" deep breath eyes closed then snapped open "I'm sorry I can't, I just can't, don't ask, please don't ask. Just, just let it go. Thank you for the thought it was most kind. I, I have to go." She did a pretty good job of imitating his voice, his trembling, cracking voice if she wasn't playing it up. "Neither I nor my staff told those detectives a damn thing because they came down here hunting."

"And I didn't?"

Those hazel eyes bored into me "Not the same way. I didn't see him for almost three weeks afterward, but he always come back like a moth drawn to the flame, circling out there alone in the night. Something keeps him from coming in from the cold, Dennis, and I want to know what it is."

So did I. Now, I had a bad guy to catch, THAT was something I could get behind. I became a cop to help people not hand out parking tickets or enforce a bunch of stupid rules.

"Do you have ANY idea where he came from?"

"No, I have some friends both on the force and in social services who made some discrete inquiries for me. Nothing. This kid isn't on the back of any milk cartons. Not here or in Western Europe."

"Not many war zones or refugee camps in either" I muttered, thinking, and glanced up to meet Dr. Blackburn's frown.

"What makes you say that?"

"Oh, I asked him where he learned all this and he said 'too much quality time in war zones and refugee camps.'"

She looked pissed, at Paul "When I asked I get 'Here and there, mostly there'. I should have guessed though, it fits his skills perfectly. He knows next to nothing about oncology because it isn't exactly something one DOES in a war zone. Did he happen to mention which one?"

I shook my head and regretted it. She passed me a prescription "One cracked rib, no serious internal bleeding but don't be surprised if you're urine is discolored, if it lasts more than a 24 hours come back, no serious head trauma."

"Have you ever seen anyone following him?"

"Just the police."

I winced, speaking of my own health "I met Dr. Walker at Mercy tonight, is Paul right about there being a new disease loose in the city?"

"Actually Paul makes a convincing case that it is an old illness, long misdiagnosed, experiencing a period of extreme virulence. **I **have no doubts about Paul's word and my only fear is that his numbers are an under representation of the full toll."

I swallowed "What are they?"

"63 dead, 117 cases, 12 of 12 dead at Mercy, 15 of 19 dead at Memorial, we lost every one of the first 10 until I started listening to Paul. Our losses dropped to 9 out of the next 42. Paul has lost 3 out of 34."

I'd been afraid in the diner, now I was furious "Why isn't this on the news?" I growled "Why isn't the CDC in **DOING** something?"

"Politics and Dr. Walker. The medical community is bogged down in just as much red tape as the legal system, maybe more. For those who do not wish to see there are enough similarities to viral pneumonia slip it in with the spike in all forms of pneumonia because of HIV. Dr. Walker and the Director for the National Center for Preparedness, Detection, & Control of Infectious Diseases were room mates as undergrads and all through medical school. They remain very good friends. He's made this Dr. Walker's city and if his good friend says it ain't so it ain't so. I'm an alarmist female and there are just a few more junkies, hookers, and homeless nobodies dying of pneumonia than normal this year. We've changed our protocol to nearly match Paul's locally for dealing with emergent cases and Memorial is starting to follow suit."

"Nearly matched? Is that why a fully staffed hospital is still losing over 20 and a little kid is losing less than 10?"

"He's using an herbal tincture that no one in the hospitals can touch since it isn't FDA approved. Legally we can't."

"And he can?"

"I very much doubt he would care if he couldn't but he's operating under the Good Samaritan Laws. The ones that want to come to the hospital come here if at all possible. The ones that refuse he takes care of. When things were really ugly he had a ward set up. He wouldn't tell me how he got the money to do it except that it wasn't stolen. I came a hair's breadth from calling you guys in when he stone walled me on it but all those kids would have ended up at Mercy and they would have died for Walker's ego. One eight year old kid juggling 22 critical patients at one point because Walker is a pompous ass" she looked ready to throw something and cry simultaneously. I laid a hand on hers and she gave me a flicker of a grin before turning grim again. "Part of me was glad when all this happened that Paul hadn't taken my offer because it left us with options we wouldn't have had otherwise. Not if he wanted to keep his residency." She slammed her cup down "Damn him and his pride. He knows, I know that he knows, he isn't stupid but to acknowledge it means both admitting that he doesn't have control over 'his' city and that an eight year old is sharper than he is." Her next words were said in a whisper "And it's driving Paul mad. You know when those detectives came and suggested he'd shot the Slasher it was all I could do not to laugh in their faces while I was trying to play dumb. Paul with a weapon? Paul a **killer**?" She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered "But that last fight between them when Walker had him by the throat…."

"Whoa, whoa, the nurse said he took a swing at him she didn't say he connected."

"Which nurse?"

"She'd turned her name tag so we couldn't read it. Bottle blond, bob cut, green eyes, 5' nothing, hundred pounds, maybe, 25-30 glasses"

"Livingston" Dr. Blackburn supplied "she came around the corner after I yelled for security so she only saw the very end."

"That's **assault **against a minor, why weren't we called in?"

"Because Paul"

"Threatened to bolt" I finished disgusted with the entire situation. "Poor kid."

"If there was a victim that night it wasn't Paul."

"What are you talking about? Dr. Walker's got to be 6'3". Paul didn't have a prayer."

"As he intended" she was twining that curl again "In our previous arguments Paul had been a model of maturity and patience weathering all of Walker's verbal abuse while staying focused on the evidence and pressing his points with cool logic and impressive panache. This time when Walker opened up I got to see a very different side of Paul. When he wants to that boy has a tongue like razor wire and he absolutely flogged Walker with it. He goaded him into attacking. I've seen Paul afraid and even with his lips going blue all there was in his eyes was cold fury. I started working in ER's fifteen years ago. I've witnessed shootings. I've seen men bracing themselves to kill. I watched an eight year old, who is not a child, no matter his chronological age, manipulate a grown man into attacking him for the express purpose of shooting him down in 'self-defense'."

"Then why is Walker still breathing?"

"Because Paul's nerve failed him" she ran a nervous (or furious it was a toss up as to which was upper most) hand through her short curls "Only time I ever laid a hand on that boy. The only time he's ever let me. I had a death grip on his arm the whole way back out. Found a spot that was fairly private and that he couldn't get away from me easily in and asked him what he thought he was doing. He just blinked those big blue eyes up at me looking as innocent as the angel they call him. So help me I have never wanted to slap a child more. I asked how could he live with himself if he'd murdered Walker in cold blood and he flushed and asked 'How will I live with myself if this thing becomes the next great plague knowing that I could have been nipped in the bud if I'd pulled the trigger tonight? How will I be able to look at myself in mirror if this city dies because I shrank at cold blooded murder? What is one death in the face of hundreds? Thousands? Millions? Billons?"

My guts went ice cold. "Is that a possibility?"

"May I finish?" she asked archly.

"Be my guest."

A measuring look, "maybe in a week or so when you're feeling better, if you're still interested."

"Girls are great but women are better" I couldn't believe I was flirting after what I'd just heard. Not only was Paul a shooter but he was conniving enough to arrange a murder to look like self-defense. Eight. Where the blazes did this kid come from and what kind of life had he led? My big concerns at eight had been did I had enough glue for my model airplanes and how was I going to convince Mom to buy me the newest matchbox car. And trying to wheedle my parents into getting a dog though I'd been think more Benji than Nanook of the North, never had gotten the dog, or so much as a gold fish for that matter. Not Mom's thing, her thing was jerking me all over the country which is tough to do with pets.

"'This isn't the fourteenth century.' I told him he snapped back '"You're as bad as that arrogant fool. Do you think it can't happen here? Don't let the success of the polio and smallpox immunization programs fool you. You haven't conquered Pestilence, not by a long road. I'm perfectly cognizant of the fact that this may be nothing more than an isolated anomaly, that we might not see another case for centuries, but the human race has _**never**_ been in a position of greater power or graver peril. You could have stopped AIDS in its tracks, but you didn't and now it is killing millions with no end in sight. What are you going to do if a **REAL **plague hits? Have you ever watched a village die? Do you know what it's like to survive as one by one **everyone** around you expires in a puddle of their own vital fluids? Don't even **dream** that it can't happen here because you're as vulnerable as any third world village."

"Did you shoot the Slasher?" I asked him.

"Yes" he replied "I asked him to cease and desist, I fired a warning shot, and when my choice was watching him kill her or killing him, I took the shot. A bit like tonight, except Walker has **already** killed more people and if this thing explodes under us he'll kill millions more than the Slasher ever would, and I was too gutless to follow through."

Her mouth twisted "An eight year old boy ashamed of NOT killing. Never thought I'd see that outside of a gang."

"What did you do?" I encouraged to get her talking again.

"I ordered him to give me the gun" she shrugged "He nailed the nerve parallelizing my arm and as he ducked past he told me I could have it when I pried his cold dead fingers from around it."

He hadn't pulled it tonight or rather last night (this morning?) Where the hell was my watch? Why? Why set the building ablaze instead? He certainly hadn't had any problem using my gun. Why mine and not his own?

She made a small sound "How could I have missed it? That wasn't a rhetorical question. Somewhere Paul was the sole survivor of an outbreak. God, no wonder he went nuts. We had a spike, that's what we went to talk to Walker about. In a single day we got hit here with a dozen new cases, we lost 8 in a single hour, then we had what was, for us, the scariest moment so far. One of our nurses contracted the illness proving that human to human infection is possible."

I was confused "How else were they catching it?"

"Without a team of trained epidemiologists we have no idea but all indications are that there is a non human vector and given the time of year it probably isn't an insect. Paul favors mice but that's just a gut feeling with no data behind it. Until she caught it all indications were you had come in contact with the vector to contract the disease and those who have contracted it so far have been almost exclusively the homeless squatting down in the abandoned buildings around the red light district."

"So human to human is bad?"

"Imagine a disease that kills nearly 100 of those who contract it when treated under normal hospital protocols and that's as contagious as the flu. The color just bleached out of Paul's face when I told him. He'd had six new cases come in that day as well, bringing his load to 22 critical patients all by himself. He'd lost two and had been blaming it on the fact that he was just spread too thin. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, with no lab support available because of Dr. Walker stone walling us we have nothing but what we can muster on the sly and we might as well be in the dark ages with this thing because of it."

God, but I wished I hadn't heard any of this on so many levels. I couldn't just let this slide, technically Paul was guilty of attempted murder. Tough to prove since the kid had never even pulled a weapon and it had been during an assault. Then there were the deaths under his care, how did that jive with the Good Samaritan Laws? Regardless of the fact that he actually had a better success rate than the hospitals there was that whole wrong full death thing. Except nobody cared about the people he was helping anyway that much was painfully obvious when one man's pride was worth more than 63 lives. I decided what the rest of the force didn't know wouldn't hurt and if Blackburn told someone else I knew, well, it wouldn't be the first time I'd taken the heat on a unilateral decision. I did need to get the gun away from the kid though. If he still had it because there had to be some reason he hadn't used it last night. I mean who sets a building they're in on fire if you could just shoot the bad guys? Hmmm, except he'd been trying repeatedly to get us to shut down the Cook and we hadn't. Had he decided that one way or the other he was going to put the Cook out of business? But he obviously could have blown the lab anytime he cared to so why wait? For the same reason he hadn't killed Walker but he had killed the Slasher. The kid clearly couldn't go on the offensive cold. For now. How long until we really did have the world's shortest vigilante?

"But it isn't going to do that, right? I mean that's worse case scenario?"

"We have no way of knowing. New cases are dropping off pretty steeply so the worst **may** be over, for now. Since we never got anyone in to study it and most of the victims are indigent once it vanishes again it's just going to be out there waiting, unknown and unpredictable, to nail us again."

There was a cheery thought.

"And then there's Paul's hemochromatosis."

"That's what lets him give blood way more often than usual, right?"

She blinked "How on earth did that" she waved a slender hand "never mind, yes. I demanded that if he was going to give donations in the field then I needed his blood screened on a bi-weekly basis. He utterly floored me by agreeing without any argument at all. His initial stats were frighteningly high. Iron overload can be fatal in young children and Paul's were some of the highest readings I've ever seen. A year ago getting a unit of blood from Paul was like getting 2 from someone else and I honestly encouraged him to donate whenever he felt it appropriate. For six months they gradually dropped to a level that was still above normal but within the safe range and then stabilized there until last month, when they fell off a cliff to the anemic side of normal."

"Does he know?"

"I've lectured myself hoarse but in 15 odd years in the ER I have never seen a worse case of superman syndrome than Paul. When he doesn't want to hear Paul can be a lot more like Walker than he would ever admit."

"You think he's burning himself out?"

"I know he is. It's easy to forget he's just a little boy"

I shot her an incredulous glance.

"It is" she defended "he doesn't act like or speak like a child but a photographic memory and a high IQ only take you so far. He can't possibly know how to pace himself. More than anything that's why I want him where I can keep an eye on him. I've seen far too many promising young doctors fry themselves trying to do too much. We need to find out what it is he's so afraid of before he gets himself killed."

My head hurt, I had a highly elusive genius of an eight year old accompanied by a poached wild wolf cub wandering the city terrified of parties unknown and lets face it, in the end, he was eight. At eight I'd been terrified of my closet who knew what had the kid spooked just because he was smart didn't mean he couldn't be dumb at the same time.

"It would help if we had some idea where he came from. If you're right that he survived an outbreak in one of those war zones or refugee camps he mentioned where would be the most likely spot?"

While she pursed her lips thinking I enjoyed the view since she'd leaned forward again. I should have been going over current events myself but a.) my head hurt and b.) I'm a guy and they were quite distracting. I wondered if they were all natural or if she'd gone to one of her colleges for a little augmentation.

"I have some friends in Les Medicines sans Frontieres. I doubt many doctors or nurses take small children with them into the field and a tragedy like that would be talked about and remembered."

Perhaps I'd spent a little too much time with my mind in the gutter because she had just completely lost me.

"Huh?" Smooth, Booker, very smooth just because the job requires you to sound like a teenage idiot doesn't mean you should BE one.

"Paul may be brilliant but he wasn't **born** knowing medicine someone trained him and trained him well. He's mentioned 'receiving a complete classical education' as if that should explain everything more than once. What's more likely given the scraps of information we might have than a volunteer doctor who took his family with him into the field and then died? Working in here you see the best and the worst humanity has to offer and you get a feel for the kids who are loved no matter how poor the parents and the ones who aren't. Somewhere, somebody cherished that boy, it shows, it shows way too much for him not to be on a milk carton unless his parents are already dead. And with everyone else dead who would notice one little body missing? Some predator must have found him afterward because someone abused that child in spades because that shows too." She rose entirely too fresh and determined for my battered flesh. "Get some rest. I'm going to make some calls."

I leaned forward too fast to catch her hand and saw stars "Let me know what you find."

"I will. Here you look like you could use these."

I rolled the pills in my hand until she left and then dry swallowed them because that coffee was just way too nasty. I figured Paul could wait and Fuller could wake me because nothing on earth was going to keep my eyes open another moment.

16


	4. Shards of a Shattered House

**Author's notes:** Kiem Sum, Korda, Koren, Kage, Kanis, Kenneth, and Cassandra do not belong to me (I believe Rysher has that honor) but were guest characters on the show I have borrowed the concept for Paul from. Any fans of the other show now know exactly what Paul is and how much of Harry's family stories are true and how much is muddied by retelling and myth…. For the rest enjoy the mystery while it lasts ;)

I don't speak Vietnamese and have undoubtedly completely butchered it. I ask the pardon of any Vietnamese readers for mutilating the language and culture.

**A Place to Call Home: Chapter 4: Shards from a Shattered House**

Ioki

Fuller had originally planned to be the one to pick up Dennis but I'd pointed out his car was wreckage. The truth was I wanted, no, I **needed** to be the one to do it. The car was merely an excuse, just like I'd used the medical data as a reason to bail and wake Fuller up in the middle of the night. Yes, I was nervous about the possibility of a new disease, anyone would be, but it went so much further than that. The more I heard about 'Gabriel' the more dread tightened a cold knot in my guts. If 'Paullus' was what my heart insisted he was, then he was **anything** but angelic.

I'd run, like a frightened little girl, not for the reason Dennis thought but in sheer terror that my Grandmother's stories were true. That the bất tử quỷ, ngài của việc chiếu sang , người chủ những thú vật , the Deathless Demons, Lords of Lightening and Masters of Beasts, really did walk the earth and that one of them was in **my **city.

In running I'd let Dennis down. When we'd been teamed up in the juvenile lockup I had hoped that we could become **real **partners, the way Hanson and Penhall where. Except Dennis wouldn't even talk. Oh, he had the gift of gab, he could chatter like a magpie and just like a magpie most of it didn't mean a thing. He'd switch sides mid argument if you started to give in just to keep things rolling. He loved to play Devil's Advocate. Just when you decided he was a complete ass who wasn't worth the time of day he'd do or say something really decent and insightful. In some ways he drove me more nuts than Penhall (which was saying something) because I couldn't figure him out. Was he the complete jerk or the nice guy? It was a toss up, anyone's guess, hell, maybe he didn't know himself. The only thing I was certain of was that he was still torn up over that thing with Christine. No matter how well he covered to everyone else I was a linh hon nghia regardless of how much I wanted to deny it or ignore it. He and Hanson were both walking wounded even if Dennis was making a better recovery than Hanson was. Or at least he had been. I parked the car, took a couple of deep breaths, and got out.

I smiled politely to the desk clerk who absently waved me toward Dennis' room without even looking up from her crossword puzzle. I peaked in through the blinds on the door and hesitated when I noticed he was asleep. Fuller wanted us downtown to make formal reports and to have Dennis pick some of the Cook's men out of a line up but what the hell he needed some sleep. I slipped quietly into the room. Dennis looked like six miles of bad road. Fuller had assured me that there were no serious injuries but he'd clearly taken a pretty nasty pounding. Even if Paullus wasn't a Bat Tu Quy this was still my fault. He hadn't wanted this case. Had practically begged to be given a reprieve. He had come to watch my back and I hadn't watched his. And if I was right about Paullus then it was even worse because I was the only one who had any clue what a great and vicious evil we might be facing and I'd left Dennis completely at its mercy. I was lucky he was even still alive.

It had been a long time since I'd sat and just watched someone breathe. It was reassuring despite the fact that his chest was every shade of black, blue, and purple known to man. Kind of restful too….

"_Vinh Van Tran" Grandmother's eyes were sadder than I had ever seen them, even sadder than when we had left her behind and gone to the American Embassy "have you forgotten me?"_

"_NO, __**NEVER**__" I swore to her._

"_Then why have you forgotten what you are? It is from my blood the Gift came. To reject the Gift is to reject the Ancestors."_

"_I haven't, I haven't."_

"_Then tell me where do we come from?"_

"_We are the children of the sons of the Sea Dragon and the Mountain Angel."_

_She nodded "But every child of Vietnam knows that, who are you?"_

"_I am the nguoi gac, the watchman."_

"_And why are you the watchman, Vinh Van Tran?"_

"_Because I am linh hon nghia, I can see the Bat Tu Quy."_

"_And who are the Bat Tu Quy?"_

"_The sons of the Lord of Lightening enemy of the Dragon and all his children."_

"_And how are his sons born?"_

"_They are not. When the Lord of Lightening kills one of the Dragon's children a Bat Tu Quy is formed full grown, created out of death, to visit death on the Dragon's sons."_

"_Name the Bat Tu Quy."_

"_Koren is the eldest of those we know, he rides a pale horse and where he goes plague follows, his face is scarred, and the wailing of many multitudes is his aspect. His power is such that linh hon nghia have been struck dead by his mere presence. He neither knows nor speaks of mercy. Flee from him for no human can stand against him._

_Kiem Sum, is from the north, he smiles kindly but it hides a lie. He promises to cure all disease but his potions cause madness and death. Humans can not kill the Bat Tu Quy but they can feel pain. Kiem Sum is a coward, rise against him and he will flee. Kiem Sum seeks to rule all the sons of the Dragon so that he can use them as cannon fodder against his brothers for though we can not kill them they can take the_ _ma thuật chiếu sáng, the magic lightening, from each other. Kiem Sum's aspect is a man weeping in terror for he fears his brethren to the point of madness._

_Kanis is the greatest nguoi chy nhung thu vat among the Bat Tu Quy and his beasts both follow and proceed him wherever he goes. He is the hunter of his kind and he delights in the slaying of children. He is not turned aside easily but destroy his beasts and he will flee. His aspect is the call of a pack of hounds hot on the trail._

_Korda is twin to Koren but lacks the scar. He comes with a fair mien and offers the hand of friendship, trust it not, for he is a thief and a murderer. Like a spider in the web he spins a snare to trap the unwary using others to do his bidding while he reaps the rewards. His aspect is a mocking laugh._

_Kage's greed knows no bounds, his smile is the grin of a hungry shark. Stand firm and drive him away or he will strip you of everything including your life. His aspect the sound of coins clicking together._

_Cassandra the witch, Mistress of Prophecy, Seduction, Illusion, and Transformation. Do not meet her green eyes or you will lust for her for the rest of time, do not listen to her voice or she will steal your will, do not rely your sight for she can bend it to her wishes, do not trust in her prophecies for she will lead you into darkness and death. Allow her a chance at your throat and like the wild dog she can become she will rip it out. A lone voice in the wilderness is her aspect."_

_I chanted obediently._

_She smiled sadly "You have not forgotten Vinh Van Tran. I had prayed to the ancestors that you would not be tested against one of the Bat Tu Quy, for they are terrible, but your time has come. Do not shame us."_

"I won't"

"You won't what?" Dennis' left eye was nearly open, the right was pretty much swollen shut.

I rubbed my own "Just a dream. It doesn't matter. We need to head downtown."

Dennis tried to stretch, winced, bit off groan, and kind of curled in on himself instead "Give me a minute?" He said trying to sound nonchalant and failing.

"Sure, you got it." I walked out of the room and leaned against the wall letting him get his act together in private with the dream still tumbling in my brain. If the legends were right then Paullus couldn't be a Bat Tu Quy because he wasn't full grown. It was silly and stupid. A bunch of superstitious nonsense. So I could sort of see auras. It wasn't consistent, useful, or scientific. Mumbo-jumbo. I loved my Grandmother, I always would, I was overjoyed to be able to write to her but that didn't mean I had to stop being American and become Vietnamese again. I'd run off and left my partner like some idiot who'd spooked at a black cat, except I hadn't even SEEN the 'cat'. I firmly set the whole notion aside.

Dennis must have taken something because he was moving with his usual swagger when he came out but his eyes were hazed for lack of a better term. I hoped he could still pick his assailants out of a line up while on pain killers and I was very glad we were going downtown in my car since I did NOT want him behind the wheel. It was funny, Dennis faked being high all the time and the kids totally bought it but I instantly knew this was the first time I'd seen the real thing.

I waited until we were in the car to say "I'm sorry, I am so damn sorry."

"For what? You were reporting to Fuller" he cracked one of scabs on his lip giving me one of those grins of his. I passed him a Kleenex before he bled on the upholstery.

"I should have been there" I said in a tone that allowed no arguments and to my surprise Dennis didn't offer any. Was that because he agreed or because he just didn't feel up to arguing? I wasn't certain which worried me more.

"Are we ok?" I'd lost too many people in my life. Dennis and I weren't really partners yet but we were moving in that direction and I, just nobody else, please, enough.

"We're ok Harry" he said earnestly. I drew a deep breath that was all that needed to be said.

"So what happened last night?"

By the time he was done my hands were hurting I was gripping the steering wheel so tight and no matter how often my head told my gut there was no way the Bat Tu Quy were real my stomach refused to listen and alternated between being full of ice, lead, and butterflies. I was more queasy than I had been on the boat to Guam. Two things were clear in Dennis' voice, he probably didn't mean for them to be, and if he hadn't taken something he probably wouldn't have let anything slip, first he was holding something back, and second, he was completely taken with the 'kid'. If I challenged Paullus Dennis and I would never be the same. It would make the strike look like nothing. Better that he hate me alive than to have him dead like Thai Kieu. One friend gunned down because I led him into disaster was more than enough and then there was Loc moldering in a prison cell. Sometimes I hated my life and my job. I really did. It isn't a Gift, Grandmother, it's a curse. Except I might be the only one who could save my friends since it wasn't just Dennis Paullus had taken an interest in, but Hanson and Penhall as well. You can't have my friends! my heart hissed at him even as my head continued a mantra that the Bat Tu Quy couldn't possibly exist. There were no immortal demons fighting for the right to rule the world. It was ludicrous, really, it was, it had to be.

I let Dennis out at the ramp. For a second it looked like he was going to argue that he wasn't a cripple but his lip twitched, he nodded his thanks, and swaggered (or attempted to) in the direction of the door. Judy would have had something pointed to say about masculine egos. She probably would have been right but I kept my mouth shut, parked the car, and made certain not to catch up too quickly.

"You're late" Fuller said but there was no edge to it "your fan club is getting a little antsy."

"Fan club?"

I knew he meant the guys in the lineup but Dennis was clueless and curious as he followed Fuller through the corridors. He stopped in the doorway "How'd you know who to pick up?"

"You'll see" Fuller sounded amused. As Dennis stepped into the room Roger flipped on the lights and called the line up to attention.

Dennis tried to laugh but you could tell it hurt too much "Where did he get the paint?"

"Road crew was repainting the curbs. They thought they had things locked up tight. Obviously not well enough to stop Paul."

Smiling had to hurt but Dennis did it anyway as he looked over his paint splattered attackers.

"2, 4, 5, 7, and 9"

"You certain?"

"Oh, yeh, is that all you caught?"

"Nah, room only holds ten at a time. We'll have the second batch in for you in a minute."

"They catch Paul?" Dennis was really worried. I bit my tongue to keep from blurting out that he didn't need to because fire could only hurt a Bat Tu Quy not kill one. Except the legends said that the Bat Tu Quy were all adults so either the legends were wrong or he wasn't Bat Tu Quy either way it meant the kid _could_ be hurt. The entire thing made my head ache.

"No, I spoke with Joey, the uniforms, the ambulance driver, and the firefighters. There's some concern about flash burns to the lungs when fire scorched most of the hair from the right side of his head but the consensus is that if that were the case then he wouldn't have been able to shake the uniforms as neatly as he did."

"Adrenaline" Dennis said softly.

"Maybe" Fuller allowed "or maybe the kid is fine aside from getting a little singed around the edges."

"How many people do we have looking for him?"

"None." 

Dennis turned too quickly and swayed. Fuller shifted to catch him if necessary but he recovered on his own.

"WHAT?! I thought city hall had its tail in a twist over him, what the hell changed?" Now, Dennis wanted to go after the kid but not to catch him. I swallowed my anger. The Bat Tu Quy do NOT exist. Paul is an incredibly brilliant little kid in trouble my head insisted but my gut wasn't buying it for a minute.

"Finish picking your assailants out of the line and then I'll explain."

Dennis half growled and then snapped "3, 6, 7 and 9. I see Sneezy finally woke up."

Sneezy was wearing a perfect imprint of the toes of Paul's shoes on his face.

As the men filed out Fuller said "Does the Cook remind you of anyone you know?"

Dennis tried to frown and winced "No."

"When we got a positive ID the excrement hit the proverbial rotating blades. His name is Jonathan Addams Blake the III."

Which meant absolutely nothing to me but the lights went on in Dennis' eyes "Well, that certainly casts things in a very different light."

"Yes, it does."

"Would somebody mind letting me know what's going on?"

"Jonathan Addams Blake the II is the head of IAD" Dennis smirked eyes dancing with an absolutely wicked glee.

"Who has been using his…influence to shift attention off of his wayward offspring's crimes by focusing what has been deemed an inappropriate amount of manpower onto an open and shut case" Fuller continued.

"Except now we **do** need to find him" Dennis countered.

"And what inspired this change in attitude?"

Fuller digested what Dennis had found out from the doctor quietly "Tell you what, I can't put you in the field looking like you just went three rounds with Mike Tyson I was going to give you a few days off" Dennis sighed. The captain was offering a way for him to save face literally. The guys were going to rib him about getting his ass kicked. We just HAD too, it was just too good to pass up. "But if you want to come in tomorrow to make some PHONE CALLS, set some balls rolling as long as you STAY AT YOUR DESK. AND I **MEAN** that Dennis. You're in no shape to play hero. Then you can look into the kid's history."

You could see him gather up his determination, further proof that Paul had Dennis wrapped around his little finger. He was willing to face the millstone of humiliation just to try and find out some more about the little whatever he was.

"Thanks coach"

"Just as long as you stay on the bench for a few days."

"Scouts honor."

"Why do I get the feeling you were never a Boy Scout, Booker?"

A twitch of a grin.

"Harry, get his statement then drop him off at home and report to the Chapel."

"You mind if I start tonight?"

Fuller frowned "You could use some more rest."

Dennis shrugged without thinking and then closed his eyes for a breath "Resting at home on the couch isn't that much better than sitting at my desk in the Chapel."

"Briefly" Fuller said "Take his statement here then head down to the Chapel. And if I think you're overdoing it when I get there I will personally drag you home and sit on you if necessary."

"I won't over do it" he promised. Fuller didn't look convinced but he waved us away.

Dennis was so quiet on the ride over I suspected that he'd dozed off but if so he woke precisely as we pulled into the parking lot. I forgot until we walked in that no one but Fuller and I knew about the night's developments. Judy gave a little gasp and headed our way while both Hanson and Penhall winced. Maybe Dennis would get off lightly on the ribbing. Then I saw Hanson grin a little. Guess not. When Dennis was in top form it was amusing because he was certainly capable of holding his own, right now though, it would be a bit like kicking a guy when he was down.

"Dennis, what happened?" a gentle touch from Judy. I was jealous, not enough to want to get the crap kicked out of me but jealous all the same. I never thought I'd see the day that Dennis was rendered speechless. Probably torn between a half-dozen glib face saving answers and the truth. Tough call.

"Did you guys hear about that thing with the meth house?"

"What, that like some muckuty muck downtown's kid was the city's biggest meth cook and the whole lab went up like the 4th of July?"

"Yeah, hear any details?"

Everyone shrugged "Not really" Penhall said while Hanson straightened "Where you there?"

"Yep, so was Paul, which is why we need to find him, it's possible he was hurt" deep breath "saving my ass. I talked to the Head of County's ER the kid **is** a doctor, someone **is** after him, she's afraid he's burning out so we need to find him fast."

Judy put her hands on her hips "You **know** you can't just walk in, drop a bombshell like that, and **NOT** give us the full scoop."

"Judy, this is important."

"Then speak quickly" she challenged not backing off an inch despite his pleading eyes.

"Alright, fine, you want to know why we should find this kid?"

Dennis should be a politician or maybe a spokesman because he made his strike speech sound like tripe. He pulled out all the stops making the kid a cross between Oliver Twist, Mother Theresa, and James Bond without a second's regard for his reputation. How stupid could I have been to have thought little Paul was a demon? I had to grin a little at the image, Dennis Booker, damsel in distress. He was a great public speaker. If he kept this up Officer Milk Carton might have some competition this summer. He was giving me goosebumps…I swallowed and stared at my arms. The Bat Tu Quy were the children of the Ngai cua viec chieu sang, the Lord of Lightening, and their approach was heralded by the same signs as an incipient lightning strike. The hair stands on end, the skin tingles, the smell of ozone. It had to be my imagination, why would Paul come here?? Then the mournful lonely howl of a solitary wolf that clearly no one else could hear began.

"Hey. Dennis" Blowfish bellowed then stopped dead "What happened to your face?"

"What'd'you got?" Dennis asked ignoring Blowfish's question.

"Oh, some little blond kid gave me this letter for you." 

"Paul was **here**?" I don't think I'd ever seen Penhall move that fast. Blowfish almost flinched when he was suddenly looming over him. He snatched the parchment out of his hands.

"Hey, I promised to give that to Dennis" Blowfish protested.

"It's his handwriting" he shoved the paper back at Blowfish and charged out the door followed by the rest of us. We fanned out but Paul was no where in sight. But he was here. I could **FEEL** him like a gathering storm, roiling, seething somewhere nearby. I could **HEAR** the howl. I slowed the feeling was fading the further I got from the Chapel.

I turned and jogged back ducking into the shelter of Michelle's car as I watched Judy and Dennis coming slowly down the stairs.

"Dennis, I am taking you home."

"Just wait til everyone gets back. Please."

"OK but JUST until then. So are you going to read that letter?"

Dennis just slumped on the hood of Hanson's Mustang, still yanking the man's chain even when he wasn't around.

"Why don't you read it for me? You have such a pretty voice" he probably meant to be flirty but it came out exhausted. Either the speech or the stairs had taken what was left of the wind out of his sails.

She frowned "Get in the car."

"Not yet, all I'll do is fret at home. I wouldn't get any rest at all."

Judy was far too lady like to snort but I was willing to bet she wanted to before unfolding the letter while I scanned the parking lot. He was here. I **knew** he was here but I couldn't spot him. He must be like the witch Cassandra, able to cast illusions. A couple of bills fluttered to the ground as she unfolded the parchment.

"What are these for?"

Dennis mumbled "Read it and see."

_Dear Dennis,_

_It has come to my attention that you are emphatically distressed that I might have come to grief during the explosive results of our escapade. Fear not, with the exception of my hair I am quite unscathed and the girls assure me that a change of style was long overdue. I am uncertain about the results of Snips endeavors at repair but am told it is quite fetching._

"Fetching??" this time Judy nearly did snort "Where is this kid from?"

'**When** is the kid from? Is a better question' I thought as I kept scanning the parking lot since the bất tử quỷ did not age and lived until destroyed by another of their own kind 'and WHERE is he?' best of all.

_I must confess that I am quite concerned about __**you**__. While I was relieved to hear that you have taken no lasting hurt from your ill-advised invasion of the Cook's demesne you are doing your own recovery no favors with this noble but unnecessary quest. I implore you to go home and rest for a few days if you wish to continue the hunt then I will by all means play the fox and lead you a merry chase. I swear to God and on my mother's honor_

An easy oath for a motherless demon to make I thought cynically.

_I will continue to be in good health for the chase._

_I have enclosed $100 dollars as repayment for the paint and other items liberated from the road crew and fire department. If it wouldn't be too much of an imposition could your captain possibly see the debts for the equipment I appropriated in the heat of the moment repaid? I am many things but I am not a thief and I have no desire to garner a reputation as such._

_Please, I implore you, __**REST**__ (Doctor's orders), _

_Paullus_

"Now, can I take you home?"

"Just wait."

He tried to reach for his cigarettes but you could tell he was hurting. Judy sighed and shook one out "I can **NOT** believe I'm doing this. You do know these things are bad for you?"

"I know, I know, one of these days I'm going to quit, swear to God and on my Mother's honor."

"Does she know you use her name in vain like that?"

"I **AM** going to quit" a deep drag, a loosening of tension on the exhale "someday."

Was that movement under the Mustang? No sooner had I thought it than the wolf popped up. I'd wondered if he was controlling the wolf like Kanis or becoming the wolf like Cassandra. Now I had my answer as I threw my arm up, eyes burning from the light of his ma thuật chiếu sáng, his magic lightening. The Latinos were right, the demon and the wolf were one and the same. I couldn't shoot at the demon-wolf without risking shooting Dennis or Judy as the beast deftly took the cigarette out of Dennis' hand with his tongue. They both jumped, Judy squeaked and Dennis swallowed a groan as the demon-wolf took a couple of puffs, spit out the cigarette, coughed, wheezed, staggered, rolled over, and played dead with one paw doing a final over the top dramatic quiver as he held his breath long pink tongue splayed out the side of his mouth. He maintained the pose for a couple of seconds, rolled to his feet, and ground out the smoldering cigarette with a paw. He cocked his head at Dennis expectantly.

"I'm sorry about last night. I should have listened and I shouldn't have hit you. Forgive me?"

As the demon-wolf put his huge fore paws on the hood, I had to force myself not to shoot because if the bullet went through and through it would go right into Judy. 'Please, please, please', I begged silently 'don't rip out Dennis' throat' I would never forgive myself if that monster killed him right in front of me while I didn't do a damn thing but he just swiped a quick flash of pink tongue along his jaw and up under his ear before giving him a thorough check with his nose. The demon-wolf dropped back down onto his haunches, chuffed, and then laid his head down pretending to sleep.

"See" Judy said "even the wolf thinks you need to take it easy."

The demon-wolf rose, chuffed in agreement, and then looked back at Dennis tail wagging just a touch ears pricked forward. I took aim. They were both still closer than I liked and its blue white aura was so bright I had a tough time looking at him. I hesitated hoping for a cleaner shot.

"How rude of me" Dennis seemed to have caught the demon's 'playful' mood "Judy this it 'Yeller', 'Yeller', Officer Judy Hoffs."

The demon-wolf sat and daintily raised a paw. I snatched my finger off the trigger as a smiling Judy reached down to take it. He turned his paw just a bit and gave her knuckles a disgusting lick though Judy look entirely taken with the possessed pooch.

"Pleased to meet you" she beamed at him as he let her ruffle his ears. His aspect shifted from a lonesome howl to playful yips. 'Damn it, guys' I thought at them 'he isn't what you think, just give me one clean shot.' I knew it wouldn't kill the Bat Tu Quy but it would hurt him and they were a lazy race preferring to prey on the ignorant. Like bullies once you stood up to them most (Koren being the notable exception) would move on to easier pickings. He looked a Dennis, dropped back into the sleeping pose, and then barked for the first time at Judy.

"Don't tell me, tell him."

"Make you a deal" Dennis said raising his voice "I figure if you're here Paul's close. If we promise, swear to God on our mothers' honor that we won't try to catch you will you please just talk to me?"

The demon-wolf pricked his ears turning his head as if listening to something and then trotted off. I tried to follow him with my gun but he wove cleverly through the cars never giving me an opportunity. I cursed silently, everyone would be ticked if I shot the wolf but it wouldn't get me into the kind of trouble shooting at the 'kid' would. I had expected him to shift forms as soon as he was out of Dennis and Judy's line of sight but he continued on the feeling of his presence fading and then growing again except he didn't come walking back into the parking lot. At least not that I could see. I still wasn't certain if he could cast illusions or not according to the list of known Bat Tu Quy only Cassandra could do it but then she was also able to turn into a wolf too so maybe the abilities went together. I bashed my head against the side mirror as Paul's voice came from above us.

"So speak" I peaked over the edge of the door hoping he hadn't spotted me. He was perched like the world's cutest gargoyle on the tin roof of the Chapel's half hearted 'steeple'. Some 'steeple' the building actually went up another story above it.

"Would you mind coming down? You're making me nervous."

"I like the view here" that accent everyone kept mentioning was thick as syrup. He drew a deep breath, cleared his throat, and when he continued it was nearly gone "There is no cause to fret. Unlike orthopedic surgery rooftops are one of my specialties."

A smirk from Dennis "I wasn't worried, my neck's sore."

"And I'd like to get a better look at the new do" Judy chimed in.

He ducked his head letting his obviously fine nearly white hair fan over the left side of his face. The cut was asymmetric, barely even fuzz on the right side, short and spiky on top, and then cut in a soft feathery line that ended at his chin. He seemed almost shy. The lonely howl was back. Demons should never appear that sweetly innocent. He looked more like the star on top of a Christmas tree than anything my Grandmother had described.

"My apologies but I still prefer my current location" he swept the hair back off his face "I might have your word but I do not have your compatriots' promise." A flick of blue eyes in my direction. Blast, he'd spotted me. Of course he might have smelled me here from the beginning when he was the wolf. That would certainly explain why I'd never been given a clean shot.

"It does look good on you" Judy offered.

He played with the tapering end where his ringlets had started yesterday "Really? I must confess it isn't a style I had ever considered before but Snips was so insistent that I didn't have the heart to refuse. She wanted to be a stylist to the stars before she ended up on the streets." He sighed "I'm still working on finding her a place to call home. She isn't making it easy." He wrapped one arm around his knees while the other formed a third point of contact against the steep, slick roof. If it wasn't for the nearly blinding gleam of his aura and the fact that my arm hair was permanently standing at attention that little plea for reassurance would have convinced me that he couldn't possibly what I knew he was. Evil entities bent on world domination and wanton slaughter just shouldn't ever sound that uncertain and nearly forlorn. Which proved he was probably the most dangerous of all his kind. The sly little serpent slithered right into your heart and then the ancestors knew what he might do. He was undoubtedly as innocent as an asp.

"Oh, yeah" Judy assured him "ringlets are _**so**_ last year. And they made you look like way too young and cutesy. But you know it's kinda chilly to be running around without a coat. I mean it's a nice scarf and all but we could probably find you something a little warmer in the Chapel."

"Young and cute was rather the point. And I'm surprisingly chill resistant." he retorted dryly "While I never had the privilege of meeting my mother, as promised her honor is intact. Now, Dennis, while I am sincerely touched at the tenacity of your concern for my wellbeing will you **PLEASE** GO HOME?"

"Why don't you come with me?"

An absolutely wicked grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and you could tell he had to literally bite his tongue to stop from saying the first thing that leapt to mind.

"That would not be a tactically prudent choice for either of us" was what he finally said.

"I'm a police officer, Paul, not a patient in an ER. You've been helping us out, let us return the favor by helping you."

An innocent, bemused look "With what officer?"

"With whoever it is that is keeping you from accepting Dr. Blackburn's offer."

Ice. It was like something or rather someone had sucked what little heat the winter sun had provided right out of the air. The gentle spill of silvery light that had been swirling nearly hypnotically out around him drew inward and flashes that reminded me of heat lightening flickered around him.

"Dr. Blackburn has been shockingly indiscrete" he purred. The pitch might be a little boy's but the tone was as icy as the air, feral and dangerous. So the demon was showing his true colors. Now that he was away from Dennis and Judy I had a clear shot but if I put a bullet in him with them watching they would never understand and I'd lose my badge. 'Just make the least threatening move' I urged mentally 'just give me the slightest excuse and I'll put a bullet right through your black heart.' His blue eyes flickered to me as if he could read my mind and then back to them. Could they read minds? None of the stories seemed to indicate that but each Bat Tu Quy in the stories had different abilities so maybe he was a telepath. Dennis tried to be casual about glancing behind him but I'd had too much practice to not know what he was doing.

"But I fear there is nothing to be done, the situation is what it is" he began to rise from his crouch clearly intending to leave.

"You must be really close to your dad" Judy said trying to keep him talking "what with your mom not being around."

"I never met either of my parents" he returned in that frigid tone.

"So you're an orphan?'

"I have absolutely no idea. Good day, Officer Hoffs, it was a pleasure meeting you. Dennis, for goodness sake, lay down before you fall down."

"But someone must have taken care of you when you were a baby."

'If you only knew, Judy' I thought as I braced myself to rise. I couldn't let it get out of here without a challenge. It would shame the ancestors and leave my friends thinking it was a sweet little boy instead of a devious little monster. Somehow I had to force it to reveal its true colors without ending up losing my badge or in a room with rubber wall paper myself.

"My first..." he paused clearly trying to think of the right word "protector was slaughtered some time ago."

"So someone is after you" Dennis challenged.

"Mirrors, Dennis, one person dead trying to protect me is enough for a hundred lifetimes" it still wasn't a little boy's tone but instead of icy cold it was as soft and gentle as a spring breeze pregnant with sorrow. The flickers of lightening stopped but the howl was ear splittingly loud. "Just go home, and forget you ever saw me."

"I can't. You deserve better than that."

He sighed, eyes unfocused and far away, tone distant "Perhaps, perhaps not…."

Now was my moment. I rose, my sights fixed on his heart, and snapped "Freeze, police." But it hadn't been as distracted as it looked even as I had made my move he was making his, tumbling nimbly down off the tin 'steeple' and landing confidently on the alley roof. I bolted forward, sweeping past Judy and Dennis, ignoring their shouts of protest, taking the stairs three at a time. The alley roof dead ended onto Jump Street, it had no where to go….except right off the edge.

Dennis shrieked "Paul!" and managed to pull ahead of me snatching for what he thought was a kid but it was already out of reach. He slid down the wall head in his hands murmuring "Not again, God, not again" so he missed it using the telephone wires to do a pretty impressive imitation of the 'daring young man on the flying trapeze.' It deftly flipped, somersaulted, twisted, and made a landing that would make an Olympic gymnast jealous on the roof across the street. How could ANYONE believe that this thing was really a little kid?

One look at Dennis and the smug grin vanished from the demon's face.

"Dennis?" If I didn't KNOW better I'd have thought that it was genuinely worried. It backed up as if to return despite my gun trained on it but Dennis who had raised his head as soon as he heard its voice shouted "NO! Sit! Stay!"

It stopped and barked.

"Huh?"

It shrugged "I figured speak was next, besides 'Yeller' already did play dead earlier, and I'm not really inclined to fetch."

"Hands where I can see them" I snapped.

It rolled its eyes but obligingly laid them on the ledge of the building across the way where it sat with its feet swinging out into space.

"Paul" Dennis' voice shook "Please get back from the edge."

It did a back flip landing with his hands raised before turning around and laying its empty hands palm up. It looked past us both at Judy questioningly.

"About a month ago the suspect in one of his cases committed suicide in front of him by throwing herself off the edge of a building."

The demon winced.

"Hey, I **am** sitting right here. Don't talk about me like I'm not."

I flinched, finger tightening almost involuntarily on the trigger but I forced myself not to fire as it reached out to Dennis. The ancestors alone knew what it might be doing to him. I was supposed to protect people from that thing and instead I was just standing here my hands tied because no one would believe me if I said the kid was a demon.

"My deepest apologies, Dennis, I didn't know. I had no intention of dredging up painful memories."

"No problem" he still sounded shaken "just don't do it again."

"I fear I can't promise that. I survive by being quick, clever, and by being able to escape using routes my pursuers are either too big or too clumsy to overtake me on. Giving up rooftops would get me killed or worse in depressingly short order."

"Then let me help" it was equal parts plea and command but it just shook its head.

"Orthopedic surgery. Dennis, this is out of your skill set. I promise if I need help with something that is within your expertise you'll be the first person I ask. Good day and GET SOME REST!"

"Hey" I snapped "I said freeze."

It gave me a cocky grin "Why? I'm not threatening anyone, there are no longer warrants out for my arrest. Are you actually going to **shoot** me for **trespassing**?"

I made a show of centering on him. I could feel Judy and Dennis both staring at me.

"Did I wrong you in a former life?" the little demon asked "What do you have against me?"

I breathed, "I know what you are" in Vietnamese. Then continued in a firmer voice, "You are one of the Deathless Demons. You are an abomination, an insult to all life, and I will not let you hurt my friends"

The howl of its aspect turned into an angry snarl while the demon flinched as if I'd slapped him before lightening crackled out its aura arching and flickering. I fell back a step before regaining my nerve. I should have known this thing would understand Vietnamese.

"I am not a demon, an abomination, or an insult to life and I have no intention of harming anyone! " it snapped back its blue eyes swallowed by the agitated energy of his magic lightening. How could Dennis and Judy not see it?! Fear coiled itself around my heart like a constrictor. It might look like an innocent little boy but this was a demon that I couldn't kill and I had just obviously **REALLY** pissed off. I fought not to tremble as he glared at me. It had already proven that the empty street between us was no barrier and besides it was a shooter itself, and a killer. I had no doubt even if I hurt him he could kill me right here, right now. What the hell had I been thinking?

"Hey" Dennis tried to get to his feet and failed "how about speaking English?"

The demon looked down its nose at me in haughty fury as a touch of winter wind fanned its blond hair across its face and remained utterly silent. Even the sound of the wolf ceased and the wind died as it went as motionless as an icy sculpture.

My heart was beating so fast all I could hear was the slosh of blood in my veins. I licked my lips. I had to get it to DO something so I would have an excuse to shoot it. I should have known that the stories' claims that just identifying them as demons was often enough to make them flee was too good to be true.

"Do you deny you possess the magic lightening?" I didn't dare ask the question in English. I would be fitted for an 'I love me' jacket and I'd heard Judy's stories about rescuing Hanson from the hell hole of State's psych ward.

"I do." it admitted, in Vietnamese. Northerner, he spoke like a Northerner a wash of anger replaced the fear.

"Then how can you say that you aren't a demon?"

"The lightening grants the potential for great longevity, nothing more, nothing less. Like all men, it is what one does with it that separates the meek from the monster. I may fall far short of the heroic ideal your friend wishes to grant me but I am neither a demon nor an abomination. "

"That isn't what the Ancestors say. I have heard that tales. I will not be deceived. You will not fool me as you have fooled my friends."

"You certainly do not require any assistance from me to be a fool." the demon retorted dryly, deeply offended but completely unruffled "You're doing **superlatively** all on your own."

"I won't stand by and let you kill them."

It abruptly switched back to English "Stop thinking like a Vietnamese peasant and kindly recall that you are a police officer in the United States of America where things like evidence, logic, and innocent until proven guilty are supposed to matter."

"Harry?" Judy sounded frightened, of me or for me I couldn't tell but either way I'd done the exact opposite of what I wanted. Dennis was just watching us both as fiercely as he could with one eye swollen shut.

"What you've done to Dennis is proof." I retorted in Vietnamese

"The only thing I did to Dennis was save him from his own folly at risk of burning alive. There is nothing wrong with my ability to feel pain and we endure long past where normal mortals find the surcease of unconsciousness and death" it riposted in the same language.

"You tricked him into going in because you wanted rid of the Cook." I accused.

"On the contrary I tried to dissuade him. Yes, I wanted rid of the Cook but not at the risk of other lives. I happen consider that life is precious and only to be cut short at the direst of needs."

"If you were so eager to keep him out why didn't you transform and TELL him not to go in?"

Its eyes dropped. I had it there.

"I said I wasn't a demon or an abomination, I never said I wasn't a coward. As much as I dislike the concept of being immolated again I find the notion of being a lab rat even more disconcerting."

And now I knew what **it **feared "Leave or you will be" I threatened.

It smiled "It's 1989, who is going to believe you if I don't do something to prove your allegations? And it's a free country, **OFFICER**. You don't have the right, the authority, or the power to tell me what to do, where to go, or whom to associate with. I don't know what stories you've heard but don't judge us all by the actions of a few. I would think you would have learned that racism harms both parties."

"It isn't racism" I'd meant to be firm but tendrils of doubt crept in. The part of me that always had been and always would be Vietnamese didn't care. It wanted to obey the traditions and the Ancestors and drive this thing away but I'd spent half my life in America becoming a cop and dealing with racism. Every shred of actual evidence argued that this was one of the good guys. Wasn't the definition of racism judging someone based on a physical attribute? Maybe there were some, what did I call him if it wasn't Bất Tử Quỷ? That weren't monsters. Or maybe he was just the most devious of his kind. The crackling lightening had stopped and his aura was once more a slowly swirling vortex of liquid silver light. Calming, seductive. Sneaky little bastard or genuinely caring saint I couldn't tell.

"What about the Game? What about your quest to rule us all?"

"It isn't **my** quest. And I don't play. When Hunters come calling I run."

"Don't you mean you're too little to play?" I challenged.

"Kenneth is no bigger than I and he is quite accomplished. Yes, the fact that I was murdered at nine" Murdered at nine. That meant that the stories were wrong, (unless he was lying) that they didn't simply spring into being full grown. Where they all murder victims? "would make being an active participant more difficult but not impossible. I **choose** not to play. I **choose** not to kill except to save the life of another. I choose to run and one day I won't be fast enough when a Hunter comes for me" he didn't want to die. I wasn't sure how to define what was in those timeless eyes. Maybe it simply wasn't a human emotion at all. "and my long 'childhood' will be over."

"You aren't even human" I barked desperate to cling to my anger and yet eager for him to refute the charge as well.

"If you cut me I bleed, admittedly I heal faster but I still bleed, tickle me and I laugh just as long and well as any, slap me and it stings. When a friend is ill I fret, if a friend dies I weep, I can marvel over the gossamer wings of a butterfly, I can be awed by the sight of a man on the moon, I can stand on the edge of the sea and dream of distant horizons, I can treasure the camaraderie of a simple meal where love is. In what manner am I less than human?"

It took a step forward and without even thinking my finger tightened on the trigger. Judy yelled but Dennis forced my arm just a little to the left so that bullet lodged harmlessly in a heap of old roof tar that had never been removed from the last round of repairs. The whatever it was didn't even bother to flinch. Dennis had EXPECTED me to shoot.

"Drop" he didn't even have to finish before I was shoving the gun into his hands. I might not know what to do about the whatever it was serenely watching us but I hadn't MEANT to discharge my firearm. If I was that panicked then I had absolutely no business holding a gun even if it couldn't be hurt, no that was wrong, the whole premise of the watchmen was that they COULD be hurt, just not killed, did I WANT to blow a hole in him? The part of me that was scared witless did the rest of me was a lot less certain. Maybe it was Dennis' speech, maybe it was **his** own arguments. I had to at least grant him that much. Dennis absently slid the gun into his right pocket while watching Paul. I could see him trying to add things up and getting nothing that made sense to him.

"A tree without roots withers and dies" Paul said in English "but roots without branches swiftly fail as well. Transplanted trees take careful husbandry to provide the proper balance. Don't let your past swallow your future, Officer Ioki, but cutting yourself off from it will only destroy you. The East has a bad habit of considering anything old to be wise, the West seems to think anything old is perforce wrong. Foolish of anyone to blindly follow either principle. All men are fallible be they ancient beyond imagination or dewy youths. Judge all things by their merits and tree by its fruit, be wary, do not trust easily or swiftly. I think you might find **reading** The Modern Prometheus surprisingly enlightening."

He glanced down, bowed, whirled, and calmly crossed the roof disappearing just as a breathless Penhall joined us followed by Hanson.

Fuller's voice came from further back "Did that shot come from here?" Great, just great.

"Yes, but no damage done. It was probably just a misfire" Dennis called back. This guy had been assigned to IAD?? Weren't they supposed to hunt down and crucify cops for their mistakes? I'd been surprised when he'd let Hanson slide about breaking into his apartment but I was stunned that he was giving me an out about his precious Paul. Would he do that if that thing had somehow captured his will?

"Come on, it's cold out here" he muttered his good eye sliding shut for several breaths "and he's obviously gone."

"Paul was here? And you let him get away **again**?" Hanson's voice held just a hint of scorn.

"Not now" Judy snapped putting herself between us and them "Move it guys I'm freezing my" significant pause "off."

Hanson half turned to Penhall as they swung down onto the steps "So which part of her anatomy"

"Finish that thought Hanson and I'll freeze something that isn't part of **my** anatomy"

Penhall chuckled at Hanson's expense. I expected to hear one from Dennis too and turned to check on him when I didn't. He was sort of listing against the wall.

"Just give me a minute."

"You need someone to lean on?"

I could see 'go to hell' on the tip of his tongue but he measured the distance with his eye and muttered "Thanks."

Well, Dennis Booker actually COULD think before he spoke. It was a miracle. I looped one arm over my shoulder and keeping all the bruises in mind was as gentle as I could be while taking some of his weight.

"Coast is clear" Judy hissed at us as we approached the drop to the stairs. She kept a look out while I gave him a hand down and then took over as his crutch making it look flirty to cover the fact that he was a half inch short of falling on his face.

"You three, my office, right now."

"Iokage to the principle's office" Hanson clucked "and Judy too. That's what happens when good kids start associating with a bad element."

I rolled my eyes. I had absolutely no problem with good natured ribbing or Hanson and Dennis' not quite so good natured war which had been very entertaining but there was a time and place for everything and this wasn't it.

Judy leaned a little closer into Dennis as if listening but I knew he hadn't said a word. Dennis never let a challenge pass unanswered, ever.

"Dennis says you're just jealous" Judy quipped, and he was a good bit more creative than that too.

Hanson and Penhall shared a worried look. Hanson might be at 'war' with Dennis but he was still a fellow officer. I hoped they weren't going to follow us into Fuller's office. I breathed a sigh of relief when door closed with them still on the other side.

"You, couch, now."

Not even a whisper of an argument from Dennis who promptly closed his eyes with a faint whimper. I felt a flare of anger against the Cook and his cronies for doing it, against Paul for however indirectly leading him into it, and myself most of all for not being there.

"Alright somebody start talking." I wasn't even certain Dennis was still conscious. Judy and I just blinked at each other.

"How old are you guys?"

Judy started talking when I didn't. As she filled Fuller in on what had happened I mentally assembled the 'evidence', trying to think like a cop and not someone who was scared witless.

OK, prior to entering the city he'd been leading a pack of wolves 3 things – first I need to contact the biologists up there and find out if the pack had been in any way aggressive to humans or livestock because if it had it proved he was lying scum like the ancestors said. Second – he had been **DRUGGED**. Nothing in the stories mentioned the bất tử quỷ being susceptible to sedatives but they clearly must be. That meant that I didn't necessarily have to shoot the kid. I could drug the wolf and dump him up in the hills instead. No harm, no foul, the Lobo de Oro didn't belong here anyway. Too bad I hadn't thought of that before I made an idiot of myself. Third and most troubling, the gang members had essentially kidnapped him but when one of them was hurt he'd saved him. I had NOTHING that unequivocally pointed to Paullus being in the wrong. He was either one slick little snake or Dennis' saint. Great.

"Harry" Fuller promted.

"Yes?"

"The two of you chatted in Vietnamese?"

"Yes."

"All you have to say is yes? Because I'm still waiting to hear why there was a shot fired."

"He speaks better Vietnamese than I do" I paused catching Fuller's eyes "if you ignore the Northern accent."

Instant suspicion, Paullus just went down several notches in Fuller's estimation.

"What did you talk about?"

I licked my lips this was going to be touchy I wanted to lie as little as possible without revealing that I knew Paullus to be a supernatural being.

"I accused him of belonging to a secret sect known for its brutality."

"So that's what pissed him off" Dennis sounded like he was having a hard time staying awake "then he told you you were full of shit?"

"No, he admitted to being a member he just argued that that didn't make him evil be default."

"Hence the judge a tree by its fruit comment just before he left" Dennis muttered "they must be who's after him because some of them ARE dangerous. That's why he told us to be wary." He half sat up, the hazel eye that wasn't swollen shut boring into me "How did you know? How do you recognize them? How many are there?"

"I have no idea how many there are and I didn't know for certain that he was a member until he admitted it."

"Then what do you know about them?" Fuller took over as Dennis faltered and slumped back.

"Know? As in solid facts? Essentially nothing. If you want legend then they're the greatest evil to ever walk the face of the earth. Demon is the nicest thing the stories call them."

Fuller stared waiting for me to elaborate. I didn't say a word. "Fine. Whose gun went off?"

"Mine" I admitted.

"Why?"

"I had my finger on the trigger instead of the trigger guard."

"Was Paul doing anything that in any way could be construed as threatening?" Fuller asked Judy who shook her head.

"Ioki, do you have any idea how much paperwork this department would have had to fill out if you had actually shot Paul? You are on a desk until you complete a remedial fire arm safety class. Give me your gun."

I was surprised that Dennis was still awake as he silently held it out.

"Your first assignment is to get Mr. Overextended here home and in bed. Then take the rest of the day off to reflect on the wisdom of only pulling a weapon when it is appropriate. Judy why don't you give them a hand getting down to the car?" Dennis sat up slowly looking like he didn't want to move for a week.

"How could I ever say no to such a dashing escort?" she gave him one of her brightest smiles to which he gave no response "Come on tough guy." He got it together and onto his feet. "I'm going to follow them" she announced. Fuller nodded. She shot Penhall and Hanson a glance but Hanson ducked his head pretending not to see. She rolled her eyes but given the war of wills between the two Hanson couldn't notice without making Dennis pay for it later so he ignored us while Penhall trailed behind just in case.

I don't think he was awake for more than thirty seconds of the ride to his place. I pulled in as close as I could get to the door.

"Dennis" not a twitch, "**BOOKER**" out for the count and entirely too big for me to be hauling up the steep stairs to his apartment. Judy gave him a peck on the cheek and sighed "What can I say, it must not be true love."

"Then there's still hope for the rest of us" I said only half joking.

She smiled "Help me get him out."

I wished it was Penhall instead of Judy since Dennis had a good six inches on her but we got him up the stairs without too much additional damage. He never even stirred. She slipped off his shoes and tucked him into bed. If he'd been the shy type this would be absolute gold for ribbing him later but once he was back on his feet he'd shred me. Hanson _might_ hold his own with Penhall for backup but English wasn't even my first language. Every guy in the Chapel wanted to be tucked in by Judy, figures that when it finally happened the poor sap was unconscious.

"Do you think someone should stay?"

I watched him breath and shook my head "The doctors did a pretty good work up on him. He just needs rest." Judy still seemed uncertain but followed me out waving at me as she slid into her car.

I did my best not to think on the drive home because if I started I'd probably get distracted and rear end someone but once I was in the quiet of my bare, empty apartment there was no ignoring any of it. Oh, I had great stereo equipment but I was alone. Completely, utterly, alone. Back in Vietnam the nguoi gac were respected if I had called Paullus a bất tử quỷ fifty years ago in my grandmother's village every male for miles would but after him with torches. People would have understood, here I would find myself locked up in State's psych ward.

I hadn't been this homesick in years, not even after that case with Loc and the Pai-Gow Boys. I couldn't even walk into Little Saigon any more (not that I ever had). I would never have wished my parents dead but their loss on the beach had given me the opportunity to make what I had hoped was a truly clean break. No ties, no roots, and with my not so little lie about being Harry Ioki instead of Vinh Van Tran not even the stigma of refugee status. Except that it was a lie. I hadn't just sprung into being the day I stole Harry Ioki' social security number I was still Vinh Van Tran no matter how much I tried to forget him. I missed the smell of joss sticks, the little shrines everywhere, but more than anything I missed family, my family.

Grandma Bessie's kids and grandkids had always been polite but once she died they had made it very clear that I wasn't one of them. Man if looks could kill her youngest daughter had murdered me in the street when they found out she'd actually left me an equal share of the (small) inheritance. I took dinner out of the microwave thinking about Van Luy's words about family and food. If I had ever wanted to make a place for myself in the local Vietnamese community being loyal to my job had blown up every bridge except one, the one to my enemies. I'd shot a guy I genuinely liked (despite the fact he was an extortionist) to save my enemy who gave me back the one member of my family who was still alive. It was almost as tangled a knot as my current problem but the bottom line was no one in Little Saigon outside of Van Luy's people would give me the time of day and I risked a knife in my back every time I went down there.

I was overjoyed to be able to write to my Grandmother but I had hoped without even really realizing it for something more, that some cousin, uncle, or aunt had made it out. What I had discovered was that as far as she or I knew we were all that was left, just a couple of shards that were all that was left of a shattered house. I didn't even like to think about how she must have felt, all alone with everyone death or missing. I at least had the **hope** (though I wasn't doing all that hot a job at making it a reality) of finding a mate and starting a new family in my new land. Every letter I'd gotten included an imploring inquiry into the state of my non-existent love life. I was torn between lying to her to make her feel better and begging for advice. Advice from a woman whose marriage had been completely arranged and who hadn't even seen the groom until the ceremony. I shoved the microwave dinner away. I had a great apartment, more money and things than I ever would have back in Vietnam but wasn't a home. I had good, loyal friends at the Chapel but none of them were ever going to understand this. Dennis especially, it had been stupid of me to ever think we could be partners the way Hanson and Penhall were, we were just too different.

I grabbed some paper because there was something I could ask her advice about. By the time the letter made a round trip hopefully Paullus would be a bad memory, I might not even send it, but writing it all out would help me wrap my head around it. What the hell was I going to do? Because my gut told me that I hadn't seen the last of Paullus….

18


	5. Den Mother

**Author's Notes: A huge thank you to all my reviewers and my apologies for the long wait on this one, so many stories so little time….**

**A Place to Call Home: Chapter 5: Den Mother**

Hoffs

I stared down at the same sheet of paper I'd been trying to fill out for at least a half hour. Dennis was late. And I mean REALLY late. I mentally kicked myself again for not staying last night but the guys would have NEVER let either of us live it down and Tom would have probably been a jerk about it. I love Tom like a brother but he was such a….a…. he and Dennis were being such….guys. Which meant, of course that Ioki and Doug were acting like idiots too. Honestly, it was like being 'mommy' to a bunch of little kids. Poor Wendy from Peter Pan must have been a saint because as much as I loved the guys there were days when I wanted to bang their heads together. I glanced over just as Doug blew a spit ball at Tom who snapped at him more out of habit than real annoyance. I looked up at the door hoping Dennis would come swaggering through it. He didn't. I hated when my boys got hurt. I still had nightmares that we hadn't found Tom in time and that those creatures at State Hospital had killed him by O.D.ing him in that hell hole. Every time Doug came in here looking like he'd been kicked in the teeth I'd wanted to rip Dorothy's hair out by the roots. Ioki was so lonely. And I suspected that Dennis was more lonely and depressed than Harry, not that the guys would ever believe it. All that brash confidence of his hid a little boy as battered as his flesh looked right now. I knew what had happened to Harry but what had happened to Dennis that he had built walls so high that he didn't even know how to come out from behind them?

I picked up the phone for the twentieth time and let it drop without making the call. Dennis needed rest. The doctors said he would be fine. He was NOT lying dead in his apartment. He'd just over slept since he wasn't as worried about Paul since we knew he was probably ok for the moment.

"I'm sure he's fine Jude" I jumped at Tom's voice by my shoulder.

"Like you would care if he died" I snapped more harshly than I'd meant to.

"I'd care" he countered softly

"Yeah" I'd meant it to sound sincere but it didn't.

He pulled up a chair "I won't deny that he drives me nuts but I do **not** want him dead." He gave me those heart melting puppy-dog eyes and I had to grin a little what girl couldn't? Tom Hanson was sinfully good looking. Penhall joined us a breath later, turned the chair around, straddled it, and set his chin on his hands. How he did that without hurting his back was one of the great mysteries of Doug Penhall resident teddy bear.

"I've been thinking"

We both shot him incredulous looks.

"Hey! I can think. Sheesh you guys are a tough crowd. Anyway I **have** been thinking about Pauly and"

"Hansen, Penhall my office. Judy, call. If he doesn't answer go ahead and check on him just in case."

"Thanks Captain" I replied but he'd already gone back into his office.

I had half dialed the number so many times I had it memorized. Blowfish smirked a little as he emptied the trash but wisely remained silent.

Four rings and the answering machine kicked in "Hey, Dennis, it's…2:36. You haven't come in or called in. I just thought I'd call and make sure you're ok. I had BETTER**NOT**find out that you're out chasing after Paul. Dennis, if you're awake pick up the phone. …Fine, then, I'm on my way over."

I tapped on the steering wheel loath to leave the car now that it was finally thinking about, just maybe, getting to something approaching warm. I finally just made a dash for the door only realizing when I got there that since I'd left Dennis' keys with Dennis I couldn't even get into the stairwell. Fudge. I shivered and leaned on the buzzer. I hated, Hated, HATED the cold. I was moving to Florida. Tomorrow.

"Hello?" Dennis sounded groggy and slightly confused.

"It's Judy."

The door immediately popped and I flew up the stairs seeking someplace warm. Dennis stepped out into the hall in nothing but a pair of boxers and grinned down the steps looking cockily amused. I came to a stunned stop.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing" I whispered in something approaching awe "Have you looked in a mirror?"

"You woke me up with the buzzer. All I did was stumble to the door."

"Sorry about that. I was just worried that you'd gotten up and gone after Paul or that you were hurt worse than the doctors thought and you…" I let the thought trail off.

He swallowed a smart comment and said instead with near complete sincerity colored with just a trace of bitterness, "Thanks for caring."

I could only blame it on the fact that my brain was frozen that the thought took this long to sink in "Dennis this is the first you've been up since Harry and I brought you home?"

The grin that lit up his face as positively pornographic "You tucked me into bed Jude?"

I raised a hand "If you don't wipe that smirk off your face I will. I'm certainly NOT complaining about the view but you were wearing a lot more when we left."

Alarm flashed through his eyes, BOTH of them. That's what had shocked me. The swelling completely gone and the bruises across his face and torso were so faded they were barely visible. He looked like it had been at least a week or even two since the beating instead of closer to 36 hours. He tensed and you could watch it ripple through every muscle in his sleek physique. Damn there were moments when I really wished I didn't work with five incredibly good looking men. Tom might have eyes that could melt your heart and capture your soul but Booker definitely had a better body and a smoldering something that just drew you.

Down girl!! I'd sworn after nearly going all the way with Doug that I was never going to cross that line. **Strictly** platonic relationships with my fellow officers. Dennis had started to swagger back into the apartment. I noted that he didn't act at all sore before basic cop instinct finally overcame rampaging hormones.

"Dennis, unless you're hiding a gun in those boxers" God, had I just said that? Dennis turned around and blinked at me before starting to laugh, which turned into a groan as he wrapped a protective arm around his ribs. I took advantage of the moment to press past him gun out just in case. Odds were that Paul had somehow followed us over and had… completely cleaned Dennis' apartment. And I mean REALLY cleaned as in my Mom would be impressed. Not that Dennis was the kind of slob that Doug was but it was clear someone had really scrubbed and tidied the place.

"I doubt the gun is necessary, Jude, who could it be besides Paul? Besides he's probably long gone."

"We don't KNOW that **Officer** Booker and until the residence has been cleared it is a matter of due diligence and safety to treat this as a home invasion with the perp possibly armed and in the domicile."

The "Yes, Mom" I got as a response sounded highly amused but the "could you make the bathroom a priority?" that followed sounded almost desperate. It had been almost 24 hours since Harry and I had brought him home reason enough for things to be dire.

We ended up meeting in the kitchen where an honest-to-God _scroll_ was sitting on the set table with Dennis in writing pretty enough to be framed across the top.

He reached for the note but his stomach howled. He licked his lips and stared at the fridge. He yanked the door open, blinked in surprise, and then asked me to check the oven. Paul must have confused us with a small army. I ladled out a bowl of soup, considered taking a quarter of one of the sandwiches but I think Dennis might have actually growled when my fingers headed in that direction. From the first bite he'd focused on the food with an intensity I had previously thought men reserved for only one thing. Well maybe for sports too if they were really serious jocks. I tried a bite of the soup. Different, not in a bad way, just in a 'I've never had anything quite like this before' way. I took a second bite to see if I liked it because I'd spent the entire first bite trying to figure out what it was. Whatever it was it was very tasty in an herby way. Mom had never really been into herbs. I mean I could identify oregano and parsley but not much else. If (**when** we were trained professionals how hard could tracking down one little boy be?) we caught up to Paul and got him in a proper foster home I would have to ask. My fingers itched to check out the scroll but it was addressed to Dennis. Who was being almost as much of a pig as Doug. There was a reason I made a point to either not go to lunch with the guys or if I did to sit at an angle that blocked my view of Doug. Not watching Dennis meant that I just _had_ to look at the scroll… or my soup. The soup wasn't nearly as interesting.

"Jude" he'd at least swallowed before speaking. I was still trying to teach Doug that trick. Of course Dennis still had a mother, Doug's had killed herself when he was six. The poor boy had missed out on years of proper training. I had been trying to patiently correct some of the worst of it, but, well there was a long way to go still. Odd to think that of the five of us I was the only one who still had both parents. Tom's dad had died in the line of duty, Doug's had basically both committed suicide, Harry's had died on a blood soaked beach in Vietnam, and Dennis' dad was A.W.O.L. Dennis didn't even know if he was alive or dead. It hadn't really hit me until now how selfish it had been of me to be all upset that my parents might get a divorce when I at least still had them and absolutely KNEW they loved me.

"Why don't you read it to me, since you're so eager to see what's in it?"

I was a bit surprised he remembered how to talk but while I still wasn't certain that he was tasting anything he'd rediscovered at least a few basic table manners and he didn't look nearly as…focused. Hey, I had permission what the heck was I waiting for? Only the fact that my Mom had drummed 'lady's don't snatch' into my head kept me from doing just that. Instead I made a show of doing it as genteelly as possible. Dennis noticed and was amused. Then he _was_ actually paying attention to something other than food.

_Dear Dennis,_

"Wow, he should start a calligraphy business Lisa paid thousands to have her wedding invitations hand done…Oh, stop looking terrified nobody's suggesting marriage to you."

A flicker of hurt followed by pure mischief in his eyes but apparently eating was still more important than talking. Dennis not saying something tastelessly provocative just to get everyone else riled? I'd thought that would take at least a broken jaw. His expression was clearly telling me to get on with it. The writing was gorgeous but it was flowery to the point that it was actually difficult to read.

_Whilst I will never cease to dispute your compatriot's unwarranted calumniate upon my virtue I do concede that I am not without some slight culpability in regards to the lamentable injuries done to your person. _

I was going to end up cross-eyed. The first letter's hand writing had had little loops and flourishes and had been neat enough to make me envious but he'd pulled all the stops out on this one.

"Did you talk to Harry after I fell asleep?"

"You mean after you fainted?"

He paused another chunk of sandwich halfway to his mouth "I did **NOT** faint."

"Whatever" I said in the same tone my Mom always uses when she doesn't buy a word coming out of my Dad's mouth but doesn't consider it important enough to argue about.

To my surprise Dennis clearly recognized it, considered commenting, and went back to eating. Smart boy. I restrained a snort (Mom had taught me better), smart ass boy, he was just still too hungry. He must have a hollow leg.

_Hence I have done my humble best to mitigate your discomfort and expedite your recovery. While massage, herbal remedies, and other methods_

At the other methods Dennis swallowed hard and went pale.

"I think I'm going to be sick" he swallowed again.

"Over a massage? He's eight, Dennis, it's not like you got molested in your sleep by a gay guy."

"No, not over the massage" another swallow. I never would have pegged Dennis for having a weak stomach. "The leeches."

Oh, how utterly GROSS. "Leeches are like Dark Ages…" I was holding a scroll and he used a quill. I swallowed hard myself.

"He used them on Breeze" he looked down at his faded bruises.

"For real?" I just HAD to ask even though I REALLY didn't want to know "Why?"

"To break up blood clots."

"Which is what a bruise is" I said. Ok, time to change the topic. Way PAST time to change the topic.

_had a salubrious effect upon the soft tissue damage they were less effective on hard tissue. My apologies but your ribs are going to be tender for at least another week. _

_I assume by now that you have found the repast I prepared. I hope Judy enjoyed it since I rather doubt you actually tasted much of it. You were, indubitably, utterly rapaciously starved. While I am aware that you are a bachelor and that your current assignment places you with high school students who are not known for their ability to make wise nutritional choices I detect a distinct lack of leafy greens in your diet. Given your physique you have to be eating something more nutritious than soda and pizza and given that your dishes were collecting dust, your pots had clearly never been used, and your refrigerator contained nothing but four different varieties of beer (a trait you have in common with my music and language tutor. You apparently share his opinion of 'the amber hued nectar of the gods') you must do most of your eating elsewhere – please occasionally order some leafy greens, you'll feel better swear to God on my admittedly conspicuously absent mother's honor. _

"I know the feeling" Dennis muttered before ladling out some soup. He actually closed his eyes and sighed. The soup wasn't THAT good.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeh, I just haven't had Zuppa Aurelius since the last time I saw my Dad's mother when I was like nine. It brings back a lot of memories."

"Good ones?"

"My Nonna, she was really great" I pretended not to notice that Dennis was blinking too much "she used to watch me every day before I started school and then went I was in grade school she'd meet me at the bus stop every day and stay with me until Mom came home. Every Thursday she made this for my Dad. He'd light a candle before he took a bite. Only time I ever saw my Dad tear up was when I asked him why."

He toyed with the soup. I didn't push hoping he would continue if I didn't. It **wasn't** easy, I was dying to ask, but one thing I'd learned in dealing with the other guys was that nothing clammed a guy up like a girl 'nagging' or 'picking' so I just had a little of the salad (which was chuck full of the aforementioned leafy greens) and waited for Dennis to either go on or tell me to keep reading.

"I could tell even as a little kid that he was leaving stuff out but the gist was that Aurelius had been some sort of charity case my grandparents took in. He was a few years younger than my Dad who was none too happy about there being another kid in the house even if he wasn't part of the 'real' family. One of Aurely's chores was to cook dinner. Dad HATED this soup but my Grandfather liked it so he was stuck eating it." Interesting that his grandmother was Nonna, spoken of softly and reverently while there was a trace of fear when he referred to his grandfather. "Long story short after treating Aurely like crap my Dad went off on his own to do something really stupid that Aurely warned him would only get him killed. Dad tied Aurely up so that he couldn't rat him out but he got loose. He told Nonna and went off after my Dad. He took the bullets that were meant for my Dad and died in his arms. Dad proceeded to tell me that I was named in honor of a good, brave boy and to remember that the good die young." He was snarling at the soup "I've never been quite sure if I should take that as a warning or what. Dad never did like Aurely even though he died for him." He flashed me a sardonic grin "Kind of like me and Hanson."

"Don't you even THINK about one of you taking a bullet for the other. There will be NO talk like that" He smirked but said "Yes, Mom" and I continued "So the A in Dennis A. Booker is for Aurelius?"

His face twisted a little more "Not anymore. When my parents split Mom changed both our names to something completely new. My middle name is Arthur now."

"Wow, I've heard of burning your bridges behind you but that's a little extreme."

"Along with moving at least once a year sometimes more."

That added a whole different dimension to it "Dennis" I had to tread softly here "Did your Mom…"

"Steal me? Nah, Dad would show up out of the blue every so often. He knew how to find us when he could be bothered to remember. My Grandfather used to brag he could find anyone, anywhere if it was worth it to him."

I very carefully didn't react. Capt. Fuller hadn't revealed everything that the dept psychologist had said to him about Dennis but he always hinted subtly and sometimes not so subtly about things to watch out for since to quote 'some things just needed a woman's touch'. Dr. whatever her name is had been more than a little worried about the fact that Dennis felt worthless. How desperate had he had to have been to have ADMITTED that? She thought it went back a lot further than just what had happened with Christine. I'd been trying for weeks to puzzle out the how's and the why's without getting anywhere. It wasn't like my boys were just regular guys; they were trained investigators and interrogators, if I didn't have a delicate hand they'd clam up on me the way they did everyone else. I restrained a sigh, I actually DIDN'T enjoy being manipulative but all four of them were walking wounded and just REFUSED like the hard headed GUYS that they were to let anyone help them. I never would have dreamed I would find my first real clue in a bowl of soup though.

"You never heard from your grandparents again?"

"No, not so much as a Christmas card. Guess I wasn't _**worth**_ finding." He shoved the soup away. "So what else does Paul have to say?"

I cleared my throat while planning my next move. I needed to find out WHY his grandparents hadn't gotten in touch. Something major had happened and Dennis was either too close or too hurt to see it. Finding the answers would probably do him a world of good and besides now I was curious. First things first though I needed to find out Dennis' original name and where he was born.

_Since you evidently could NOT be trusted to take proper care of yourself, I took it upon myself to ensure that you were sufficiently rested before you attempted to run me to ground. I would have preferred to keep you abed a bit longer but that would have required catheterization_

Dennis nearly choked and I paused while he coughed.

_which I doubt you would have been pleased with. While I consider the possibility that you will manage to bring me to bay fairly remote I deemed it unwise to antagonize you even for your own good. _

_I did consider simply leaving town but the ever so charming _

I didn't know precisely how he did it but the ink positively DRIPPED sarcasm then flashed quickly to fury

_manner of your compatriot's 'petition' makes me utterly, completely, totally, and consummately disinclined to acquiesce to his 'request' that I forthwith quit 'his' city. _

"We need to get Harry talking" Dennis said eyes narrowed in thought. "Does he really seem as incensed as you make him sound?"

I looked at the sentence again. "Yeh he does. I know it's just writing but I think he's angrier here than he was yesterday."

"So you think he's been brooding over it?"

"It's just a letter Dennis"

"Right so…."

_I must confess I was sorely tempted to do….something, but both of us acting like a pair of nine year olds will resolve absolutely nothing. Judy will be here soon and it wouldn't do to be caught before the hunt can even begin so,_

_**TALLYHO!!! **_

_And please do take care, I hate it when the good guys get hurt…. _

_Paullus_

Dennis lifted a spoonful of Zuppa Aurelius and then dumped it back in looking at it like he expected it to attack "How did Paul know how to make Zuppa Aurelius?"

"Is it that unusual?" Yes, I'd never had it before but there were plenty of things I hadn't. Mom had gotten interested in gourmet cooking since I left home but she hadn't exactly been when I was young.

"When was the last time you saw Chickpea and Leek soup on a grocery store shelf? Or on a menu? And it has" he picked something out "THIS in it. I've never seen it anywhere but at my Nonna's."

"What is it?"

"I don't know. Nonna didn't either but I remember her tearing New York apart trying to find a replacement when the one Aurely left behind died. No one had ever seen one or heard of it. They couldn't find it in their books or catalogs." He gently rinsed the little tip he'd fished out, spreading the tiny tattered leaves out to dry on a scrap of paper towel. "None of this makes any sense Jude. What link can there be between the boy 'who came from no where and went no where' that my Dad knew and Paul? Aurely died over thirty **years** ago. Paul is a nine year old child but Harry takes one look at him and is so terrified he panics and **fires** on him. And Paul didn't even flinch. What the hell is up with that? And with the wolf? Where did the kid learn Vietnamese? Or medicine? Or gymnastics? Or to cook like this? Something stinks somewhere."

He was agitated enough that he got up to pace.

"Have you considered calling your grandparents to see if we can find out more about Aurely?"

His jaw locked so hard I was surprised he didn't need dental work. Men!

"Maybe I could check out that angle?"

He wanted to know, he wanted to know so damn bad but looking into it would mean that it mattered, that being ignored by his entire father's side of the family hurt. If he had been a girl I'd have given him a hug, he'd cry all over my shoulder, we'd have ice cream (double chocolate), and make the damn call. But he wasn't a girl and even if I trusted him to be a gentleman if I gave him a hug I wasn't certain I trusted ME to behave. My love life hadn't exactly been going well lately and here was a damn good looking man that I already liked. A hug could so quickly lead to more. So I let the silence stretch while I wondered which was worse. Tom and Harry's parent(s) were dead but Harry and Tom had known without a shadow of a doubt that they were loved. The memories hurt but they didn't need to be second guessed. I concluded that Doug had it worst, he didn't know if his parents had loved him and they had both died needless, selfish deaths. Dennis at least had hope, if he could be prodded into swallowing a little of that male pride he was choking to death on and looked for answers himself. It was crystal clear that his mother had taken him and run from _something._ I felt like I was tip toeing through a mine field on egg shells. And men have the nerve to say girls are complicated.

"_**Swear**_ to me that NONE of this will get back to _**anyone**_ at the Chapel?"

"On my mother's honor."

A quick nod.

"I kinda need a name."

He licked his lips, head down, then softly "I was Donatello Aurelius Tramanti, my grandfather was Carmin Tramanti. I don't know what Nonna's first name is."

Don't laugh, don't laugh don't you DARE laugh, Judith Marie Hoffs. I ordered myself. Donatello, God, that was as bad as the boy named Sue. No wonder Dennis didn't want that to get out. The boys would shred him over it. The ninja turtle jokes alone would be, God. No, this was never getting back to the Chapel because of me. I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy.

Where did I know the name Carmine Tramanti from? I sighed "Could you spell the last name?"

Another soft reply. From brash, arrogant Booker. OK I needed to do something. I settled for an arm around the shoulder half hug with a "Hey, between you and me, we've got 60 of the Chapel's brainpower, we'll figure it out and have the bad guys in no time."

"Only 60?" he rejoined indignantly sounding much more like the Dennis Tom loved to hate.

"Heh, Harry's no dummy and neither's Capt Fuller." I checked my watch "It's a little late for the East Coast, where do you want to start on this side of the country?"

He sighed looking out at the setting sun "He could be anywhere Jude. " He grabbed a phone number and dialed "Good evening, this is Officer Booker is Dr. Blackburn in?"

"Thanks, yes, I'll hold" it wasn't long before he hit the speaker button "Hey, Doc any word back on those inquiries you were going to make."

"You sound amazingly chipper" a slightly sultry voice replied "I'm glad you had the good sense to get some rest."

"Well, according to the note I was left, I'm not to be trusted to take care of myself so a certain diminutive doctor took it upon himself to make certain I didn't over do it."

"So he was at your place overnight" the Dr.'s relief was palpable.

"I assume so, why?"

"Record setting cold last night, I've sent three bumsicles to the morgue so far today and I have six more who may or may not keep their extremities. If he was at your place then he was someplace warm. I placed some calls but no replies yet. Paul have anything interesting to say?"

"Just that I don't eat enough leafy greens. He seems to doubt I'll be able to catch him and it almost sounds like he's looking forward to me trying." Dennis paused "Speaking of leafy greens are you working Friday night?"

"Do I detect a dinner invitation?" He turned the speaker back off. I rolled my eyes and started cleaning up the kitchen.

"You could confirm that I am _**very**__ willing_ to follow doctor's orders" he purred. A throaty chuckle then a silky "So is it a date?" "See you then."

He grabbed a towel and started drying "We should pay Harry a visit. Do you think he'll talk to us?"

"I don't know" I replied, Harry could clam up with the best of them when wanted to, heck he'd pulled off being a dead Japanese infant for years.

I added 'how do you keep things from sticking to the pan' to the list of questions I had for Paul. I noted that Dennis knew how to clean despite Paul's comments about the state of his dust covered dishes. I wondered if he knew how to cook and just didn't bother or if his mom had made him do dishes but never taught him to. With both of us working in comfortable silence it didn't take long before we were on our way to Harry's.

After a couple blocks of silence Dennis had filled in a few gaps that hadn't been in his speech on Paul and I had to confess as I parked the car the kid was quite an enigma, "His lights are on. Think he'll let us in?"

"Only one way to find out" Dennis exited the car like it was a summer day as he casually strolled over to the doors wearing only a light leather jacket that was far more for show than warmth. Sometimes I was really glad to be a girl. My ego wasn't wounded at all that he was out there pretending he wasn't freezing his rear off while I stayed in the still warm car and waited to see what happened. He held the door open with a flourish and I scooted in at a run. I'd thought I'd left winters like this behind when I left Chicago.

"Ladies first" I rolled my eyes but didn't argue with Dennis' attempt at gallantry.

Harry had a mulishly (not that I'd ever actually met a mule) stubborn look on his face "Look I'm sorry I pulled my gun on the kid without provocation, it won't happen again."

"Harry, I'm not here to fight, I just want to understand."

"Sorry, it's a Vietnamese thing, you can't."

"Please let me try."

"You're just going to camp in the hallway if I don't let you in, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Fine. Whatever. Make yourselves at home."

I'd had more gracious invitations when I've shown up with a warrant.

"He paid you a visit, didn't he?" Harry demanded of Dennis.

"One that I slept through but I can't argue with the results."

Harry looked horrified "He had you at his mercy all night?"

"He's a little kid, Harry."

"Who just happens to be the leading suspect in a murder case. He could have done anything to you."

"But he didn't" Dennis countered "You said he admitted to belong to the secret sect you mentioned earlier. Could you tell me about it?"

"It's a collection of old wives tales, myths, and ghost stories."

"But I **love** myths and ghost stories, besides from his reply there's probably a grain of truth in them somewhere."

Harry sighed and grudgingly gave in "According to Vietnamese belief all Vietnamese people are the decedents of a Mountain Angel and a Sea Dragon. Everyone knows that one but there is another set of stories not was well known, the Lord of Lightening also desired the Mountain Angel and when he saw her with the Dragon's Sons he became incensed with jealousy. He demanded children of his own but she refused to betray the Sea Dragon. He withdrew to seethe and brood vowing that his sons would be motherless but try as he might he could not form children of his own. He was forced to watch as the Dragon's Sons lived in peace and joy below him. Finally unable to stand watching their joy any longer he struck slaying four of the Dragon's Sons and gravely wounding a fifth. He took them and using the corpses of the dead he created the first bất tử quỷ raising the dead flesh with his lightening.

The fifth brother watched in horror as the as the Lord of Lightening crafted the monsters he had formed from the remains of his brothers. Despite his wounds his terror was such that he ran and distracted by his newly risen sons the Lord of Lightening failed to prevent his escape. On the dregs of his strength the survivor told all he had seen and slipped into a deep sleep.

The Dragon and his sons rose up to take vengeance but they could not find the Lord of Lightening and they could not tell his sons from the brethren. By stealth and treachery the bất tử quỷ slew many of the Dragon's Sons and they could not discover which among them where the killers. One of the bất tử quỷ crept into the bower where survivor lay in a sleep nearly as deep as death itself but he woke just as the bất tử quỷ was about to kill him and shouted a warning. The Dragon's Sons rushed to his rescue. They were overjoyed that they finally had a way of finding the bất tử quỷ in their midst but it was short lived when they realized that the Lord of Lightening had made his sons Immortal. No matter what was done to them they survived, through sword, through fire, even staked and buried deep they always returned to life, clawing their way out of any grave no matter how deep. They can feel pain though and so the Dragon's Sons drove them away.

Long years of peace followed and the survivor died. Thinking it was safe now the bất tử quỷ returned but the survivor's decedents shared his ability. They became known as the nguoi gac, the watchmen."

"Do you believe that Harry?" I did my absolute best not so sound as if I would question his sanity if he said yes. I mean all kinds of religious beliefs sounded a bit loopy if you didn't have faith in them.

"When I was little? Absolutely, my grandmother pounded all the stories into my head. And I was really proud to be nguoi gac, to have an important part to play in keeping everyone safe. When I got older doubts started creeping in, by the time I finished high school I thought it was utterly ridiculous."

"What changed your mind?"

Harry flinched at Dennis' question "Who says I did?" he finally spat.

"Your trigger finger for starters" Dennis rejoined almost gently "why?"

"I could feel him even before Blowfish came in with the note. The reason I came back ahead of everyone else was as soon as I ran out of range I realized he'd never left the Chapel courtyard."

"Feel him how?" I was trying not to sound skeptical, really I was.

"It's the lightening, it's what makes them Immortal, it's what brings them back from the dead, and for a nguoi gac being near a bất tử quỷ is like sticking your hand in a socket. I know, I know it sounds nuts." Harry threw up his hands and started to stalk away.

"Not when you think about his reading assignment."

"You've read the Modern Prometheus?"

Dennis rolled his eyes "How many times have you guys been through high school? Don't you know that the Modern Prometheus is just the subtitle for Frankenstein?"

"You're kidding" no he wasn't, neither was Harry. This had officially just gotten way too weird for me.

"What kind of range do you have?"

Harry looked at Dennis like **he** belonged in the nut hut for even suggesting that Harry might be right. "I don't know, maybe a block. _**IF**_ it isn't just my imagination" Harry didn't believe it was his imagination. Not for an instant.

"You can tell us the rest of the stories in the car" Dennis said rising.

"Doing what?" I snapped.

"Cruising for Paul. I admit it's still a big city but if Harry's right we just got a major break."

"Dennis, _**if**_ the _**stories**_ are right then he's an Immortal demon bent on the slaughter and or enslavement of the entire human race." Harry's voice was getting progressively louder and more strident "He's an abomination to be caged or driven away not a child to be rescued. Those things don't age. He could be hundreds or even thousands of years old. He's a dangerous, savage monster that you can't kill."

"And if you aren't right Harry?"

"Then I won't be much help tracking him down."

"I didn't mean that" Dennis looked up "What if he isn't bent on slaughter and enslavement, what if he isn't a savage killer? He's running from something Harry. If he's really Immortal why bother?"

"Because the only way a bất tử quỷ can permanently die is at the hands of another bất tử quỷ. That's why we have any hope at all. They can't abide each other." Harry sighed "**If** the stories are right Dennis there isn't anything we can do even if he is the one decent member of his race. We can't save him. Someday one of the others is going to hunt him down and destroy him."

"I think" Dennis countered "that, no offence to your grandmother, you're treating hearsay as fact."

"You're going out no matter what I say aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Then let me get my coat" Harry said in resignation.

Harry was droning on in the back in a tone that would make you think he was reciting the multiplication tables instead of the details of known 'special powers' among the bất tử quỷ (at the moment something about a Kiem Sum who could brew a magic potion that would make regular humans obey his every whim but invariably caused madness and death in those foolish enough to take it). I felt like I'd made a wrong turn and gotten stuck in a comic book. I don't LIKE comic books, they're dumb. I was willing to bet Dennis liked comic books and horror flicks from the way he was just hanging on the whole idea. Kinda like Doug was really into cartoons but didn't want anyone to know. I bet Dennis had a pile of comics mixed in with his Hustlers (both undoubtedly well hidden for very different reasons).

"He's here" Harry's voice suddenly trembled with tension. Dennis sat up to look around.

"Harry" I scoffed "we're not even CLOSE to the red light district yet. This is an awfully nice part of town for"

"Well I'll be damned, he's right there" Dennis sounded absolutely stunned (guess he hadn't been as much of a true believer as I had thought) as he pointed up ahead and sure enough there was the back of his rather unique pale blond head about a half a block ahead. I noted that despite record cold the kid (or whatever, no the **kid**, I was **NOT** buying into Immortal demons, there was a perfectly logical explanation for all of this we just hadn't found it yet) STILL had no coat on. Was he trying to catch his death?

"Drop me off and then pull past them and park just around the corner" Dennis breathed as he slipped quietly into the frigid night.

Harry didn't look happy about him being off on his own but it didn't take me long to get into position even if this was an unusually long block. I would have preferred to be the one who waited in the nice, warm car but even unarmed I didn't trust Harry not to hurt Paul. I peeked around the corner. The guy Paul was walking with was in no hurry and the two were ambling slowly in my direction with Dennis trailing behind as yet unnoticed. Since I didn't think any of us had anticipated actually finding Paul we hadn't exactly developed a plan. Yes we had him caught between us with Ioki in a position to pursue but…

Paul paused his head snapping to the right as they passed an alley. He gave his companion a shove but another set of hands reached out and yanked the gangly guy into the deeper darkness. Paul hovered uncertainly for a second as Dennis and I both broken into a run before vanishing into the alley. I got there first, gun drawn just in time to see one of the punks slam Paul against an unforgiving brick wall and it had the look of a rebound hit. How many times could he have done it before I got here? Surely no more than twice. I hoped no more than twice.

"Hands up" I snarled. The punk dropped Paul who didn't even try to catch himself. Dennis came skidding in and spat "Assume the position."

Apparently there were no virgins and no heroes in this group because they all knew and obeyed the drill or maybe we just sounded that pissed. Harry joined us just as Dennis was about to check Paul. He made an executive decision and passed Harry his gun and cuffs so he could focus on the way too still puddle of Paul. So much for Immortality, invulnerability and all that bull poo. Damn, damn, damn.

He pulled a pen light out of his pocket and felt for a pulse. He got gasp and groan in response followed by a mindless, graceless scuttle out of easy reach.

"Hey" Dennis said soothingly "it's the good guys" while Harry read the three punks we'd caught their rights.

Paul's head snapped up, mouth open in the cutest little 'oh' of absolute shock. You could see just how hard the one in the blue jacket had rung his chimes as he blinked at Dennis in a daze. He winced as he tentatively probed his own skull his entire hand coming away bloody.

"You ok?"

"Fine" but it came out faint and thin compared to how he'd sounded yesterday then his gaze visibly sharpened even in the meager light of the pint-sized flashlight "Tadzio!"

I'd completely forgotten about the other victim. Paul shot past Dennis and nearly dove between my legs. He immediately tilted the old man's head back put in a couple of breaths and started compressions. "Could one of you call it in? Sixty-nine year old male Caucasian history of mild heart trouble in full arrest suspected myocardial contusion. No meds." He stopped to breathe again "Go!" Another breath and back to compressions.

"Hey kid, don't you realize we SAVED your ass from that filthy old Nazi queen?" the one sporting the beginnings of a mustache spouted.

"You were given the right to remain silent and the right to an attorney" Paul growled deep in his throat "I suggest you exercise them."

I shivered half expecting the kid's head to spin around. He had sounded downright scary.

"So this wasn't just a simple mugging huh?" Dennis asked "Ah, well keeping your mouths shut would be the smart thing to do. You have the right to remain silent. No one can force you to talk."

Because he was distracted with the perps Dennis didn't see the body arch under Paul's spread fingers as he barked "Tadzio!" in that same fierce tone. I could have sworn I saw a flicker of lightening ripple from the boy all the way through the old man. It couldn't be. It had to be my imagination.

The old man choked and gasped as he vomited a little. Paul rolled him so he could clear it more easily as he purred to him in some language I didn't recognize and that didn't sound much like the handful of beginner German classes I'd been assigned to through the years.

"Pawel?" he sounded exhausted "Pawel" followed by a string of stuff I couldn't follow that seemed to have WAY too many consonants.

"Oh, Tadzio" from his tone, Paul's reply was an even mix of anger and plea. I hated not being able to understand what they were saying.

"Foreign shits" mustache muttered.

"Always too quick to forgive" Tadzio's voice had some sort of faint Eastern European accent. His breathing hitched and stopped with his eyes open. Paul slid them shut and went back to doing CRP but I could tell he was just going through the motions this time, the desperate edge was completely gone.

"He wasn't" a breath "a Nazi" a second breath and a switch to compressions "He was in the Polish _**Resistance, **_a thrice decorated member of the Armia Krajowa, and a concentration camp survivor." It took me a moment to register that Paul was talking about him in the past tense while doing CPR.

"Jewish pig" the same one that had been slamming Paul against the wall snarled.

Paul shot him a glance that seemed to decree him too stupid to live and ignored us all in favor of his half-hearted pounding without apparent effect on Tadzio.

"What a **brave** pack of guys" Dennis' voice was absolutely scathing "It takes **THREE** big strapping gents like you to attack an old man and a little boy. How pathetic."

"I told the boy to run" the one in the baseball cap protested. I hadn't heard his voice before and he looked vaguely sick.

I restrained a sigh. He probably wasn't a bad kid by himself but he'd let himself get pulled into his 'friends' mess and now he was going to pay for it. He very deliberately caught my eye looked at Paul looked at the dumpster and back me.

"Is that true?"

Paul glanced up "Yes."

"Stupid little f couldn't be bothered to listen" blue jacket smirked "bet you learned your lesson, brat."

Paul who had just switched back to compressions let out the bitterest, most mocking laugh I had ever heard in my life "Don't flatter yourself" he retorted in a tone that somehow managed to be smooth as silk and sharp as a razor at the same time "you have neither the wit nor the wherewithal to teach me anything I haven't already learned from monsters that would have you pissing yourself with their mere presence. _**You**_ are naught but a _**small**_ man driven to take his own …inadequacies out on others."

No kid that young should _**EVER**_ be able to pack that kind of innuendo into anything, no matter where he'd been living.

Blue jacket lunged at Paul despite cuffs and two guns trained on him. Dennis slammed him into the wall, he grunted swayed but stayed on his feet. I half wished Dennis would do it again but that was a dangerous road. And where the hell was Harry?

"**Don't** give me an excuse, snot-wad."

That was much more lady-like language than I wanted to use. Mom would be really disappointed in me if I said what I was thinking. The flashing lights of a couple of black & whites washed over us followed by some brighter light so we could actually see what we were doing. I could finally hear the wail of the ambulance in the distance too.

"What the hell" a big, grizzly beat cop grumbled "do you have a kid doing CPR for?"

Paul made no protest when the when he was shooed out of the way by the older sergeant. I figured with Dennis and I still watching the perps, half of the back up working on Tadzio and the other half likely having no idea that they should hold the boy he would be out of here like a shot but he just looked at the perp in the baseball cap and then leaned against the wall head down, shoulders slumped, hands jammed deep into his pockets. He wasn't wearing gloves either. I was _**freezing**_ in gloves, hat, parka, and scarf and he wasn't even shivering in nothing but sweater. We were stopping and getting the kid a coat no matter what else happened. God, I was _**so**_ glad I wasn't out on the streets this week. He was so still if it wasn't for the regular tendrils of steam from his breath he could have been a statue. He wasn't actually going to come in this easy was he? After all the time major crimes had put into trying to catch him it seemed completely out of character and a little anti-climactic. Baseball cap shifted a little and when he had my attention mouthed 'Get the kid to a Dr.'

"Aren't you supposed to be heading for the hills about now?" Harry's voice was utterly, carefully neutral. I hadn't seen him come up and from the way Paul flinched, no, not flinched, cringed like a dog that expected to be kicked he hadn't either. He sidled ever so slightly in Dennis' direction who looked both surprised and pleased but Blue Jacket, never the sharpest tool in the proverbial woodshed, thought this was his chance to make another lunge at Paul who completely ignored him. Dennis shoved him in the direction of Harry and the new uniforms just as the ambulance finally arrived.

"Hey, Paul, why don't you go with Tadzio in the ambulance and get checked out" I couldn't believe Dennis was handing him an escape route on a silver platter. Then I noticed a little blood on the corner of the dumpster. Damn, it had been a rebound hit but not off the wall.

"It's been a depressing enough evening without adding a chaser of Dr. Walker" was the quiet, defeated reply. Dennis caught my eye with a worried look.

"_**You**_ shouldn't even know what a chaser is" I said while Dennis turned his attention to Harry.

"Why don't you get these clowns started down at the station while Judy and I take Paul to get checked out by someone other than Walker."

I expected Harry to immediately shoot the idea down given how horrified he'd been that Paul had been alone with Dennis all night but he just nodded "What charge?"

"Start with aggravated assault and check with the hospital, if the old guy doesn't make it we'll need to consider murder."

"He won't, he's already gone" Paul said watching the ambulance pull away.

I wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He trembled a little under the touch but didn't move away "Don't think that way. They might get him back."

"No, they won't" he finally looked up, I hadn't even realized he'd been crying, there hadn't been the least indication in his voice but the tears where rolling down his cheeks "I've seen enough death to know when you can cheat the Boatman and when you can't." He said something else in a language I didn't know, maybe Polish?

Dennis started to drape that nearly worthless (but very cool) jacket over Paul's shoulder but he stepped away from both of us "I'm not cold and I have no need of medical assistance."

"Paul you were down for the count. I would sleep much better if you let Dr. Blackburn have a look at you."

A single quick nod. The entire way back to my car I kept expecting him to bolt but he just mutely accepted being sandwiched in the front seat between Dennis and I. I turned the heater up to blasting and breathed in deep. The engine must still be warm, good. Other than the occasional shudder that I suspected were strangled sobs Paul was completely still and silent the whole way to County. It gave me the heeby-geebies. I'd spent the entire summer as Officer Milk Carton visiting youth camps. Eight to ten year old boys never just sit quietly. The little heathens are bundles of kinetic energy. I found myself checking him out of the corner of my eye as I drove but with his head down the long hair on this side completely obscured his face. Dennis would have the better view since he didn't have much more than fuzz on that side but he was very firmly looking out the window. Which pretty much confirmed that Paul was still crying. Heaven forbid that guys should give each other a little emotional support. Nope, nope, just pretend the other guy isn't having a melt down next to you, _**if**_ you're feeling kind otherwise ride him mercilessly about it. Men!

Dr. Blackburn looked almost (but not quite) old enough to be Dennis' mom. I never would have pegged Dennis as the type to go for the 'Mrs. Robinson' vibe. I'd also never been ushered into a room so quick in an ER in my life.

"What happened?" she demanded of all of us.

When Paul didn't immediately pipe up Dennis said "I'd like you to check him. A couple of thugs were using him for a handball and he's been awfully subdued and strangely cooperative since."

She pulled out a pen light and checked his eyes "Pupils are equal and reactive."

"That's because I'm fine."

"Then why" she bit off whatever she was going to say and crossed her arms over her (very ample – SHE would have taken first place in that stupid sorority 'competition') chest and gave him a challenging look.

He shrugged "Because mirrors are damn annoying."

She didn't appear to be at all reassured by his answer and grabbed on of those little gadgets for looking in your ears.

"Why?" Dennis on the other hand seemed to have some inkling what that was supposed to mean.

Dr. Blackburn didn't let him reply "You're going for a CT, _**now**_."

Paul slid easily out of her grip "Let's not waste a perfectly good gambit just yet."

"This isn't a game, Paul. I'm seeing signs of CSF otorrhea and mastoid ecchymosis."

"Which means in English."

"It means that Dr. Blackburn thinks that I have a cracked skull" Paul answered "with attendant leakage of blood and spinal fluid via the right ear."

I went cold remembering him blinking dazedly at his own bloody fingers.

"He was unconscious when we arrived" Dennis said in a rush.

"How long?" Dr. Blackburn tried and again failed to get Paul going in the direction she wanted. So much for the docile cooperation that had seemed so out of place earlier.

"A couple of minutes, max."

"Damn it Paul you know how serious head trauma can be" she hissed at him "We need to get you immobilized."

"Over my dead body and yes, I am well aware, and if I thought I was in need I wouldn't be dancing with you. But since I know you won't rest easy until you've wasted tax payers money I'm willing to make a deal."

She just blinked at him several times before muttering "You blackmailing brat. What do you want?"

"Help with Detective Fitzgerald. I'm not her favorite person and I'm fairly certain that Officer Ioki's long absence involved several calls."

"If you were so interested in avoiding her why come with us at all?" I challenged.

"Because I'm reasonably certain neither of you saw who did and didn't hit Tadzio. I don't want his killers to walk if the coroner can't confirm cause of death and I don't want the one who made a half hearted attempt to stop it to end up accused of murder. That leaves me needing to make a statement, preferably BEFORE the good detective figures out why we aren't down at the station and tracks us here."

"If you didn't have anything to hide you wouldn't need to be afraid of the police."

Another bitter bark of laughter, I didn't like that laugh, not at all, followed by a wince.

This time Dennis bodily scooped him up which earned him a glare but not a fight, "Which way?"

"Let him walk, I need evaluate his balance."

Paul sauntered into the corridor eyes narrowed and proceeded to do a tumbling routine that would be the envy of Augastana High. The look he leveled at us bordered on belligerent.

"Well at least you don't appear to have a brain stem injury. Any ringing in the ears?"

"No, no blurred vision, no blind spots, no dizziness. Officer Hoffs has the poor taste to be wearing a purple and chartreuse scarf in shades that do nothing for her usually lovely skin tones so I'm also having no difficulties with identifying colors. The poster to my right has a dog in the upper left and cat in the lower right if you were wondering about my ability to recognize drawn objects. The poster to my left details signs and symptoms of congestive heart failure since I haven't seen them before both had to have been hung in the past week. Mrs. Karpinsky" a quick nod at woman who had to be pushing retirement age "is manning the desk this evening so I can still recognize faces" he paused and drew a deep breath.

"Headache?" Dr. Blackburn's tone challenged him to lie about.

"Bloody hellacious, if you could convince Vulcan that my head isn't his anvil I would be eternally grateful" his bright blue eyes slid shut a moment and he muttered something in what I suspected was Polish. It at least sounded similar to what he had spoken to Tadzio in.

"Paul, I think you're severely altered" Dr. Blackburn said slowly and carefully, "I think that's why you let them bring you in."

Eyes open and blazing in fury "And I **KNOW** I was speaking Polish" he hissed back "It's hardly my fault that like most of the excessively insular self-centered arrogant patrician denizens of this haughty mockery of the Roman Republic you're monolinguistic. I occasionally weary of being forced to cater to the churlish and nearly illiterate masses and if in those moments I chose to speak to myself as the sole _**erudite**_ individual in the room then it is **NONE** of **YOUR** DAMN BUSINESS!"

"Who died?" Mrs. Karpinsky asked from her place by the phone.

"No one _**you**_ care about" Paul said sibilantly.

"The Polish community it is not so big that we can ignore one of our own" she countered firmly.

"Tadeusz Nowak" Paul replied and her face twisted.

"Ah, so there are members of the 'Polish community' that can be ignored or even targeted. Embarrassing for you wasn't it that while your father ended up in prison like the murdering bastard he was the war hero he betrayed turned out to be gay? And very firmly committed to his companion. Did he break your fragile little heart? I wonder what tall tales you told your grandson about him? Well whatever they were, your poison tongue's venom came full circle tonight and now your grandson will likely stand trial for murder."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I would bet my last dollar she was lying.

"Don't bother to lie if you can't do it well dear" Paul rebutted. "You might want to tell your daughter to start looking for an exceptional lawyer because this isn't a good town to be a gay basher in."

"Tadzio and I had NOTHING to do with each other."

"Not for lack of trying on your part dear. Hell hath no fury and all that. Damnation woman you had the poor taste to make a play for him at Lubomir's funeral. Not that your darling little grandson knew about _**that**_. Pity you couldn't be bothered to teach him fair play when you taught him to hate." Paul tsked "Had to have a friend hold the old man so he could beat him. No heroes to be found in your family are there?"

The old woman shrieked something in one assumes Polish and started to come across the desk after Paul but Dennis got there first "Calm down, NOW."

She glared bloody murder at Paul who swayed a little "Thanks, while there isn't a handy dumpster for her to sling me into my head's taken enough of a pounding for one night."

Dennis turned to glare at Paul "I don't appreciate being used."

A tear trickled down one pale cheek, "I wasn't. She only fills in I had no idea she'd be in tonight until I saw her. I admit I baited her but it was so damn unfair. All he ever did was try to serve his country and live his life. He never went out of his way to hurt anyone. She had no right to twist that boy into a weapon and send him after Tadzio just because she couldn't have what she wanted." He wrapped his arms around his chest and rocked a little eyes going off into the distance in a million mile stare "all so damn unfair" with that he started keening.

Dr. Blackburn wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided an unresisting Paul down the hall. I could feel our case fraying around the edges as quickly as Paul's mental stability seemed to be. He'd bounced back up so quickly that I'd thought he'd gotten off easy.

He pulled the light blue sweater gingerly over his head and tossed it to Dr. Blackburn with a negligent ease as she ordered a spinal tap, blood work, a raft of tests I'd never heard of on his way into the CT machine. He looked frail without the bulky sweater. He wasn't bony or underfed I was just used to guys that spent a fair bit of time pumping iron and compared both to my boys and most of the kids I'd spent the summer with Paul was incredibly slight.

As Paul disappeared into the tube a youngish (late twenties?) reasonably hansom (he had nothing on Tom and lacked Dennis' presence) café au lait doctor joined us.

"I just heard, how is he?"

Dr. Blackburn held out the sweater.

"Tell me that isn't what I think it is."

"He was drenched in CSF."

"That can't be all CSF, an adult only has about 125 cc's" he licked his lips and said horrified "that's one hell of a leak there's no way the ependymal cells can keep that kind of output up."

"I think there's a significant crack in the base of his skull. He's alert and oriented but his emotional state is a roller coaster. His temperature, respiration, and pulse are normal but his blood pressure is low even for him. I've put a rush on the labs."

"The guys down there like the kid they'll put him ahead of everything else."

"But you can do something, can't you?" Dennis asked.

The doctors looked at each other.

"Dr. Meyers this is Officer Booker"

"I've heard about you. You don't look nearly as black and blue as I was led to believe" he tried to smile but it didn't touch his startlingly green eyes.

"Paul paid me a house call."

"And this is?"

"Officer Judy Hoffs" I could see a flicker of interest in his eyes before he was distracted by Paul reemerging from the machine.

"Hey, scamp, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Laying around on the job and wasting the tax payers hard earned cash" Paul retorted lethargically. Dr. Meyers patted a gurney with its back at a 30 degree angle "Up on the bed, doctor's orders."

He nearly had to scrape his jaw off the floor when Paul obediently went without protest.

"You remember how you got here?"

"Officers Booker and Hoffs."

"You remember what happened?"

"If you mean the events leading up to the back lower right quadrant of my skull making a very uncomfortable impact against the corner of an entirely too stolid dumpster yes, quite clearly, things are a bit blurrier between then and arriving here but I think I have the general gist of matters."

Dr. Blackburn was frowning at the monitors and Dr. Meyers wasted no time joining her.

"It doesn't make any sense" she muttered.

"There's no fresh fluid on the table or on him. Leaks do frequently seal themselves."

"Leaks like that?"

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. I paged Dr. Kincaid down for a consult."

"I should have thought of that."

"If you don't mind I'd like to make that statement sometime tonight. Detective Fitzgerald isn't a complete moron."

"You aren't going anywhere but upstairs for some quality time under observation, scamp" Dr. Meyers said "I intend to win fair and square which means you have to get your act back together."

"If you think you could beat me now you have serious delusions of grandeur."

Paul's flesh was so pale that even Dr. Meyers long, slender café au lait fingers where shockingly dark against it as he gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.

"I assume you would prefer to get things on tape?" Dr. Meyers asked me.

"If possible."

"I'll have security let us into Dr. Kincaid's office so you can get started. We'll be by later. If you see any signs of his condition deteriorating, come and get us immediately."

I paused as I settled in opposite Paul, had he had those dark circles under his eyes earlier?

"So" I said taking the lead while Dennis just watched Paul "what happened tonight?"

He licked his lips, eyes closing "I, A. C. Paullus, do solemnly swear that the following is the truth and nothing but the truth in the matter of the death of Tadeusz Nowak, born August 3rd 1920 in Lublin Poland, naturalized citizen of the United States of America in 1959 resident of San Francisco California from 1956 to the present. Lubomir Krol, Tadzio's long time companion was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in April and died in May. Knowing that Tadzio would take his death hard since they had been together since they met in the Polish army in their late teens he asked me if I would keep an eye on Tadzio and do what I could to cheer him. I agreed more for Lubomir's peace of mind in his final days than from any faith that I would be able to mitigate Tadzio's grief.

To that end I regularly visited Tadzio. Tonight we had dinner together at a small Italian establishment called Nonna's several blocks from his flat"

Flat not apartment, interesting word choice particularly coupled with his earlier rant. Whatever else he was Paul was not an American or at least didn't consider himself one of us.

"Despite the chill I decided that he needed to get out of that damn hole he was boxing himself up in." Paul paused eyes open now and staring through me. If he wasn't clearly still breathing I would have thought he had died they stayed fixed so long before Dennis prompted "Paul?"

"My fault" there were no tears but I could have sworn he was crying again.

"No" Dennis replied firmly "it was not."

"He never would have been there if I hadn't drug him out tonight."

"**You** did **not **kill him Paul. So you went to Nonna's and…"

"I had tortellini Aurora; Tadzio had clams in white sauce over linguine. We were chatting in the back in Polish over a glass of Chianti."

"You were having wine?" I knew I wasn't supposed to interrupt but well it slipped out on me.

"Tadzio always ordered a carafe and once the waitress was gone we would share. I know it's a bit gauche but since it was so chilly and we both prefer" a pause "preferred red we were having a Chianti and yes, Officer, I had **a** glass of wine this evening with the proprietors of Nonna's none the wiser" a flicker of annoyance which honestly was an improvement over the million mile stare or guilt any day "and Tadzio had two and a half. We were nearly ready to leave when Mrs. Karpinsky's grandson Joseph Schmidt and two companions with whom I am not familiar but that Joseph call Pete and Mike entered the establishment. They clearly were not interested in eating. They ignored the 'please wait to be seated' sign and positioned themselves across and one booth in front of ours. They then proceeded to make progressively more lewd allegations first about Tadzio and Lubomir which Tadzio ignored and then about Tadzio and I to which we both took exception." Paul paused "At _**NO**_ time did Tadzio _**EVER**_ make an _**INAPPROPRIATE**_ _**ADVANCE **_ of any kind to me. He was devoted and _**utterly**_ faithful to Lubomir the entire time I knew them and was hermit like in his grief." Paul's eyes were blazing again and he was grinding his teeth in rage. Though you did have to admit that it sounded bad, openly gay man drinking wine with a very pretty underage boy in a private booth, more than one political career had wrecked on less. "Jove, they ended up in Majdanek as pinks because they were unwilling to be parted."

"Pinks?" this time Dennis was the one who interrupted.

"Greens were on top, they were incorrigible career criminals, then reds who were political prisoners, depended on the day who came next, blacks were 'anti-socials' which pretty much meant the mildly retarded, vagrants, addicts, that sort of thing, browns were Romani Gypsies, yellows were Jews" it wasn't until then that I realized he was referring to a concentration camp. For the first time it hit me, 11 to 12 million died in the camps, 6 million were Jews. I had never even thought to wonder who the others had been. "pinks were homosexuals and unless they were willing to make an…arrangement were invariably on the bottom. The worst thing you could be in any camp was a pink Jew, not that being a pink Pole was much better." He licked his lips again and went silent.

"So you were both annoyed about the innuendos" I said.

"I've never understood it."

I had the distinct impression we were no longer directly talking about tonight.

"No matter how much of it I see. Oh I've learned to predict it, anticipate it, even how to diffuse it, sometimes, but I've never understood it" he'd wrapped his arms around his thin chest.

"Never understood what?"

"All the killing. I know all the words for why. Can even puzzle out which one motivates any particular slaughter but I still don't understand." Quiet again. How do you answer that? And the implication of 'all the killing' was just chilling. I decided to ignore it and press on with the matter at hand.

"Joseph and his friends insulted you and Tadzio, then what happened?"

"Apparently one of the staff had decided they were trouble the moment they walked in and had called for backup. About the time Tadzio was ready to take a swing at them four twenty something Italians showed up and escorted them out. I knew that wouldn't be the end of it. I tried to convince Tadzio to take a cab home but he insisted on walking. Said he hadn't cowered from the Third Reich he wasn't going to cower from a bunch of children." Another lick of the lips.

"So you were walking back and…."

Long pause "Tadzio was quiet fit for his age despite walling himself up in his flat. He had a treadmill and a weight set but he insisted on making it a causal stroll back. They were waiting for us in the alley. I told Tadzio to bolt but he wouldn't. The one with the mustache, Peter, held him while Joseph hit him. He'd been starting to have a little trouble with arrhythmia, nothing to serious, just something to keep an eye on in case he needed a pacemaker in a few years. Joseph's second punch went up under the sternum and nailed the heart. You could see all the hallmark signs of myocardial contusion and subsequent cardiac arrhythmias, prior to that I had been going to go for help but I knew there was no time. The other boy, Mike, the one in the baseball cap, knew too, he'd been trying to talk them out of it, been tugging on Peter's arm, trying to get Tad free. I tried to get to Tad but Joseph grabbed my arm and flung me into the dumpster." He gingerly touched the back of his head. "And then you were there."

Lick of the lips and a long stare "How?" Paul was fading. Dennis switched off the tape, stuck his head out the door and yelled for a doctor.

Furrowed brow "How did you find us so quickly?"

Somehow telling him that Harry had some harebrain notion that he could 'sense his presence" didn't seem wise.

"It isn't important."

"Is so" he breathed back, the circles under his eyes were definitely darker.

A spare older man with silver hair that I sincerely hoped was a doctor responded to Dennis' bellow.

"What are you doing in my office?" he demanded with a distinctly Irish lilt.

"Have you seen Dr.'s Blackburn or Meyers?"

"Paullus?" Dr. Kincaid looked like he'd been slapped with a board.

"There you are" Dr. Meyers snapped "I've been paging you for almost an hour. I don't get it" his attention shifted to Dr. Blackburn behind him "the CT shows absolutely nothing but he was saturated in CSF and his stats are just bizarre."

Dr. Kincaid snatched the chart, muttered a curse, and grabbed a bottle of water from the little refrigerator by his desk. He slid an arm under Paul's shoulders and tilted his head back just a touch while putting the bottle to his lips.

"Would one of you medical geniuses go get an IV and some saline? Your boy wonder is about 10 minutes and a few cc's from full circulatory collapse." Dr. Meyers hadn't waited for him to finish as Dr. Kincaid gave Paul sips of water his tone contemptuously scathing, "Two supposedly fully trained medical professionals and it never occurred to you if the boy had lost that much fluid it was critical to replace it?"

Dr. Blackburn just sort of dropped into one of the chairs head down "God, a first year knows better."

"There's a reason why doctors shouldn't treat kith and kin" Dr. Kincaid was much gentler now "Put the films up and I'll take a look."

"He isn't" she started but Dr. Kincaid cut her off firmly but not harshly "Althea you've spoken of little else for months. You see the wee lad as a son in your heart and we both know that fretting parents can over look the most basic of things." As Dr. Kincaid looked up at the charts he unthinkingly pulled the bottle up a bit. Paul's hands snapped up wrapping around the bottle "Figured out ye were thirsty did you lad? Don't worry no one's going to take it away from you"

Dr. Meyers practically flew back in with an armload of bags, a couple of syringes, and what looked like a portable monitor. He quickly and efficiently slid a needle into Paul's arm despite his death grip on the water bottle. The steady beep of the monitor was at least reassuring but the blood pressure looked really, really low. I felt almost as much like an idiot as the doctors must. No, medicine wasn't my vocation but as a cop I'd had a lot of basic first aid training and he'd had several signs. Mom would be disappointed I mean offering someone something to drink was just common courtesy. Apparently satisfied Dr. Kincaid settled Paul back on the gurney and moved around to study the films more closely. As curious as I was I stayed in my seat hoping the doctors would just forget that Dennis and I were here.

Dr. Meyers smoothed the hair back off Paul's face "Scamp, I'm counting on you to never let me live this one down" he whispered before joining the other doctors at the light box.

"There HAS to be a fracture" Dr. Meyers insisted "Otherwise nothing else makes sense. All that CSF had to come from somewhere and you don't get the cranial equivalent of an exsanguination from a crack so small that it doesn't show on a CT."

"And yet there is no visible structural damage of any kind though there is a clearly visible lack of sufficient CSF." Dr. Kincaid shrugged and glanced back "Did you?"

"No" Dr. Meyers denied "Saline, anti-inflammatories, analgesics, vitamins but no sedatives. I figured we'd never see him again once he woke up if I did."

"Must have been knackered then. Blood pressure's coming back up nicely. Let him sleep."

I thought you weren't supposed to do that but Dr. Kincaid seemed to know what he was doing. Dr. Blackburn's pager went off. She was clearly torn.

"Go" Dr. Kincaid ordered "he'll be fine all he needs is some replacement fluids and a lot of rest."

He sounded awfully certain. She didn't seem terribly reassured

"Yet these levels are indicative of extreme debilitating trauma" Dr. Meyers continued doggedly.

Dr. Kincaid turned to us "I assume the two of you are in some fashion linked to Paul? And why ARE we in my office?"

"Officer Judy Hoffs."

He had a firm but not crushing grip and eyes nearly as blue as Paul's in his lined face. As he withdrew his hand I caught sight of the edge of a tattoo on his inner wrist. Odd. "You two are police officers? Good God, but I must be ancient." He shook Dennis' hand and waved us both down instead of reclaiming is own seat from Dennis. "So?"

"Dr. Meyers suggested we use your office to record Paul's statement."

"Is the investigation of a sensitive nature? Given that I'd rather not rouse the slumbering legend just yet it would give me some insights into his mental state."

I glanced at Dennis who leaned forward to rewind the tape.

"Question, if he had had serious structural damage that somehow healed spontaneously, would that account for the wonky biochemistry?" I could not believe Dennis had actually asked that question. From the looks on the doctors' faces neither could they. They were very different expressions, Meyers was incredulous but Kincaid was…worried?

"Officer Booker the kind of injuries that would yield these results would have left him in a progressive vegetative state if he'd survived at all. I happen to believe that God can do miracles and if anyone deserves one it's Paul."

"Just out of curiosity" Kincaid was trying to play it cool but he was clearly fishing "what inspired you to ask such a question?"

"Just trying to figure out a way for the data to match the theory" he lied nonchalantly. I guess these days we all lied well, it was an occupational hazard. Kincaid wasn't buying it. Dr. Meyers got paged. He shot us an apologetic look before leaving.

"There's really no need for you to stay officers. I'm perfectly capable of keeping watch over Paullus alone."

"I have a few more questions for Paul when he wakes up."

"That could be hours Officer."

"I'm a patient man" Dennis rebutted with one of those lazily defiant looks that drove both Tom and Captain Fuller nuts. Dr. Kincaid seemed to find it amusing.

"Suit yourself Officer, would you mind hitting play?"

"Pardon me where's the ladies room?"

"Down the hall to the left."

I figured the boys would be alright on their own for a few minutes while I made a call. The boys, being boys, considered calling in the Captain a port of last resort and a serious blow to their egos, especially Booker. I on the other hand had no problem calling in an older wiser head when I needed one.

"Hello?" It was tough to hear over whatever disaster had Dr's Meyers and Blackburn tied up.

"Captain, it's Judy, sorry to call you at home."

"Hey, any time. What happened?" I brought him up to speed only editing Harry's 'ESP' & belief that Paul was a demon. "Do you think you could check up on Harry and maybe run some interference with Detective Fitzgerald. She's the last thing that Paul needs right now."

"How is he?"

"I don't know, he wasn't down for long but he seemed very different than before. Dr. Kincaid seems certain he just

"OK, I will touch base with Harry and see if I can cut Detective Fitzgerald off at the pass since she can't pull rank on me. Where's Booker?"

"I think he's trying out for a new career as a body guard."

"Well, you'd better get back before he overreacts if the doctor looks at the kid wrong. I'll be by."

"You don't have to do that."

"Hey, I want a first hand look at this kid and if he moves as fast as Major Crimes claims this may be my only opportunity."

The tape was winding down as I came in. Dr. Kincaid was back behind his desk and Dennis had staked himself between both Paul and Kincaid and Paul and the door. The monitor showed that at the very least Paul's temp, pulse, and blood pressure were spot on perfect.

"As I was just going to tell your companion the cafeteria is one floor up. Food is just as lousy as you think it is but it will stave of starvation if you're desperate. And feel free to find something to read."

Scanning the shelves I'd need to be Paul to understand anything on these except, my God, that was just too spooky, a copy of Frankenstein. I gingerly pulled it off the shelf as if it was a viper. Dennis' eyes grew even more suspicious. I almost thought Dr. Kincaid approved.

"Fascinating book, bit slow in the beginning but I'd be interested in your take on the nature of the monster."

"I've never been much for horror."

"It isn't really. If you're as determined as your college it could be a long night since I plan on letting him wake on his own. If the first book is too much for you skip to the second, it rambles less."

"Thanks."

At some point Dr. Blackburn came back and she and Dennis engaged in some serious flirting which I did my best to ignore until the phone rang.

Paul started blinking blearily awake. He rolled forward stretching a little. He rocked back a touch when Blackburn immediately shone a light in his eyes.

"I'm fine, really, truly, honestly" he looked down "I'm sorry about earlier, I" he spread his hands and whispered "I'm sorry."

"Hey I almost let you die being an idiot I'd say we're more than even" Paul's head snapped to Dr. Kincaid "Sean? Is that Sean?"

Dr. Kincaid hit the speaker button "Sean someone here is asking about you." The look Paul leveled at Kincaid just barely stopped short of panicked.

"Really" I couldn't place the accent "I can't imagine who else I know in California?"

"Just a rolling stone" Paul quipped in that slightly teasing tone I remembered from before. I hadn't even realized I'd been holding my breath. Maybe he had never really been hurt, maybe it was a miracle, maybe he was really a demon whatever the truth I was glad that he was clearly on the mend if not better.

"PAULLUS??!!"

"Honestly, Sean, they probably heard that for miles. You'll disturb your patients."

Sean's reply was in French, finally a language I could follow since a couple of summers as an exchange student had left me with a pretty good command of it, "Check your time zones it's too early to be at the office."

"Office? Are you getting lazy in your old age?" Paul shot back in an accent good enough to make me green.

"We don't all have your stamina" Sean replied in a strange tone "Do I want to know what you're doing in Dr. Kincaid's office?"

"Tadzio was murdered tonight. I" a hitch and a swipe at his eyes.

"Lubomir must be beside himself" interesting that this Sean clearly knew our victim but didn't know the current state of things.

"He died in May" Paul switched gears and asked Sean something in a language I'd never heard before. (How many languages did the kid speak? English, French, Vietnamese, Polish, and now whatever this was. ) Sean clearly spoke it as well and I was reduced to watching Paul's reactions to try and puzzle out the gist of the conversation. Paul rolled himself up wrapping his arms under his denim clad thighs so he could set his chin on his knees. What kind of nine year old color coordinates his scarf, sweater, and socks? I'm not sure even Captain Fuller's fine fashion sense went that far. The kid looked glum at best verging on trancelike.

I yelped a little as the door banged into the shelves but Paul didn't even twitch eyes glazed and unfocused, still responding to Sean's questions in something I suspected was calculated to be unintelligible to everyone else in the room. I was beginning to wonder just who Sean was because he had Paul, for lack of a better term, enthralled. Obviously Captain Fuller hadn't managed to cut an extremely irate Detective Fitzgerald off at the pass who stormed into the seething.

"So _**this**_ is the infamous Gabrielle" she snarled as Dr. Meyers followed her in.

"And you are?" Sean's voice was arresting. I found myself wanting to answer even though he wasn't talking to me.

"Detective Catherine Fitzgerald."

"Detective Fitzgerald, I'm certain we can discuss this like mature and reasonable adults. Why don't you have a seat and get comfortable?"

"I want to get 'Gabrielle' down town for questioning and then turned over to juvenile where he belongs."

"As I'm certain you're aware, he's a very special individual that must be handled with discretion and skill. Undoubtedly that's why your superiors entrusted this case to you."

"I do my best."

"I'm sure you do" Sean purred back "which is why I'm certain that that's the very last thing you really want to do."

"No" she shook her head and gabbed Paul's arm. Quick as a striking viper with eyes as vacant as a corpse's Paul's teeth closed around wrist with an audible crunch. She screamed, Dennis grabbed her shoulder hissing "let him go", Sean gave some sort of command and Paul went as limp as a puppet with its strings cut.

"Come on, that looks like it's going to need stitches."

"And a cast" Sean said "Paul's got nastier bite than a bear."

Dr. Meyers started to rise but Dr. Kincaid said "David the students can handle it."

"Yes" Sean said "Why don't all of you stay for a few minutes?"

Dennis was already backpedaling out the door followed by Fitzgerald "Catherine, do be certain to come back once you're injuries are attended to."

"Judy? Where's Paul?"

"Oh, he left" I yawned not sure what his problem was "let me give you a ride home."

"In a moment, Judy" Sean's soothing voice poured through the speakers "I'd like to talk to Dennis first."

Dennis, hand on his gun, yanked the phone line out of the wall and nearly dislocated my shoulder pulling me out of the room. His eyes were as wide as a spooked horse's and he was tense he quivered.

"Honestly Dennis you're almost as paranoid as Harry" Harry needed help, Sean was more than happy to give it to him.

"I'm beginning to see his point" Dennis really should have stayed and talked to Sean. He would feel much better about all of this. Dennis was almost as scared as Harry had been the other day but there was really nothing to be worried about. The best thing for everyone was just to leave Paul alone and let him take care of himself. All this scrambling around after him would only cause trouble for everyone. Sean said so and he was right. I would just have to find a time for Dennis to talk to Sean later. I offered him a ride home but he told me he'd take a cab.

My timing couldn't have been better Harry was just wrapping up his interrogation of the punks that killed Tadzio when I got there. Dennis had left several messages but I pocketed them. Sean had Dennis' number and these would only embarrass him later. I quickly dialed Sean and when Harry walked by I offered him the phone "He wants to talk to you."

"Hello?" I could see the fear and the tension bleed out of Harry. Good. Now I could go home. Because I had something important to do for Dennis. In talking to Sean I had remembered where I knew Carmine Tramanti from. Poor Dennis, he really did need to understand what had happened. I wondered if his mom really thought he was safer not knowing?

I walked into the house and went to my filing cabinet. The guys undoubtedly thought I was nuts but I'd kept all of my school notebooks and term papers. They certainly came in handy in this assignment. I passed over the papers themselves and ruffled through all the photocopied articles. There it was in big, bold letters:

**MAFIA FAMILY MELTDOWN**: Grieving Son Turns State's Evidence on Mob Boss Dad. Case reopened on fiery death of wife and son last month. Carmine Tramanti to be arranged tomorrow before grand jury.

27


	6. Surveillance

**Author's note:** The song Paul sings is an abbreviated version of 'Hearts Break' and is swiped from Slaid Cleaves album Wishbones. I vaguely remember it being revealed that Booker's father was in witness protection for some sort of mob connection. I'm reasonably certain he wasn't nearly as well placed as I've written…

**A Place to Call Home: Chapter 6: Surveillance **

**Fuller**

I cursed under my breath, there was no way I was going to get to the hospital in time to cut off Fitzgerald. Neither of the accidents was bad but between them they had managed to box me in and by the time I got free of the snarl she was going to have come down like a hammer on Judy and Booker. I was willing to bet the elusive Paul would have made good his escape before either of us arrived.

I finally pulled up in a no parking zone just in time to see what could only be 'Yeller' trotting up the side walk. Hoping that Judy would forgive me I eased back into traffic following the wolf down to the red light district. He vanished down a dark alley and to my surprise Paul emerged a few minutes later. I considered trying to catch the kid but decided to bide my time because so far foot chases hadn't turned out so well. The kid moved like a ghost. I lost him in the shadows half a dozen times. Just when I was ready to give up and call it a night I spotted him traipsing along a skinny ass little ledge about five stories above the street. I was never going to complain about my kids at Jumpstreet again. I wanted to march out there and order him down but I was scared he'd fall. Was he trying to crack his skull open twice in the same night? Where the hell were this kid's parents? The kid was a hazard to himself. He'd perched himself like a little blond gargoyle without so much as a coat. I shivered in the car, with the heat on, all bundled up. The breeze fanning the hair he hadn't lost to the fire was the only movement.

"Come the hell down" I ordered under my breath but, he didn't, he stayed for hours until even the hardiest of the hustlers had crawled off and there was a hint of color to the sky. He stretched and slipped quickly down disappearing into the deep shadows. I cursed as I realized that I'd lost him before climbing out of the car and trying to figure out a way to check why he had that ledge staked out without getting killed since I wasn't a human billy goat. The door to the building proved to be not only unlocked but non-existent. I cautiously flicked on my flashlight, hand hovering near my gun, mindful of what had happened to Booker but this building seemed hold only rats and the occasional derelict so why scramble up the outside when there was a perfectly good set of stairs?

I stepped gingerly out onto the ledge Paul had been perched on and nearly tumbled down into the street in surprise. Some quirk of the buildings amplified the sounds from below making this a nearly perfect vantage for spying. Shivering I stepped back inside. So now I knew why this particular spot and I was slightly relieved to have a mundane explanation for some of his uncanny ability to know things but why the hell did he do that heart stopping balance beam act to get up there?

I debated stopping for a cup of coffee on my way to the Chapel but decided after making certain the kids were all fine and busily at work and placing a few calls I would try to catch some shut eye on the couch in my office.

"Hoffs, Booker, Ioki, Penhall my office" I said breezing in the door seconds shy of being late. Hanson blinked at me clearly wondering why he had been left out "Hanson" I barked before Booker could shut the door. I let the silence draw out as I watched them. Penhall and Hanson were openly curious while Judy and Ioki were relaxed to the point that if I didn't know better I would have suspected they'd snuck into the lock-up and sampled some of the stuff we'd been getting off the street but it was Booker who worried me most. He looked like he was wound about six turns too tight, even tighter than Ioki had been and I was frankly worried he was going to shoot my phone.

I had been amused when he first started and had instantly gotten into what amounted to a pissing contest with Hanson. Lord knows Hanson and I had had our run ins early on and seeing him get challenged had had its brighter moments. Unlike the kids I hadn't taken the fact that he was IAD personally and Hanson's accusations of rape had been groundless and juvenile. The eagerness with which IAD had turned Booker over to me had tossed up some red flags but in the light of recent events that argued in his favor. The kid had a serious problem with authority but I was beginning to suspect that under the mouth and attitude there was a proverbial 'heart of gold'. Thought it wasn't in evidence this morning.

"Booker, Dennis" I repeated more forcefully "Judy caught me up last night. I tried to run interference with Fitzgerald but I got hung up in traffic."

"Pity you could have saved her from a broken arm" Booker said softly.

"Who broke Fitz's arm?!" Penhall roared.

"She grabbed Paul when he was distracted, he was startled, he bit her" Booker said with a shrug.

I blinked "He broke her arm with his teeth? Are you certain it wasn't the wolf?"

"I saw it too, it was definitely Paul. You do NOT want him snapping at you" Judy backed Booker up sounding almost like herself.

"He seemed like such sweet kid" Penhall sounded crushed.

"He is" Judy rebutted "she just caught him off guard and she wasn't precisely being lady-like."

"Question" I broke in "Judy said that Paul was altered and leaking CSF so how did he manage to elude three police officers and two doctors?"

"Wait a minute" Penhall barked "Paul was hurt?"

"A couple of punks beat an old man to death last night. Paul got in the way and one of them threw him into a dumpster so hard they cracked his skull. He was bleeding from his ear" Booker said without looking up.

Penhall surged to his feet "And you let him get away?" Apparently he was forgiven for breaking Fitzgerald's arm.

"Doug" Judy said in that same too something voice "it's ok. He can take care of himself."

Penhall already half way to the door rocked back so hard he nearly went over backwards into Hanson.

"What?!"

"Everything's ok. We just need to leave him alone" she repeated sounding like Reverend Moon's newest disciple. Booker finally raised his eyes from the floor and they were begging me to tell him that he wasn't nuts or maybe that he hadn't fallen into the Twilight Zone.

"So, you think it's perfectly ok for nine year olds to run around unsupervised?" Hanson asked.

"NO!" Judy blinked at him like he'd grown a third eye "those little hooligans should be supervised every _**second**_."

"Then let's go find him" Hanson said rising.

"Paul? Why?"

"Harry?"

Ioki shrugged "What's all the fuss about?" he turned to me "Are you going to assign us a case or what?"

I grabbed a folder off my desk "Why don't you and Judy start working on background for this while Hanson, Penhall, and I catch up on their case. Booker, why don't you stay in case they need backup?"

As soon as the door was shut Hanson was all over Booker who actually flinched a little. Telling, very telling, Booker was too addicted to that cool, tough guy image of his to betray fear so unintentionally.

"Hanson" I barked then repeated his question in a more reasonable tone "What the hell happened last night?"

He gave a slightly different but essentially the same report as Judy up to the altercation in the alley "For a few seconds I really thought Paul was dead. I couldn't feel him breathing, couldn't find a pulse, you could feel death" he looked down at his hands "then there was a flicker of power, like a static shock but different and even before he gasped I knew he wasn't dead anymore."

"You haven't been taking samples out of evidence have you?" Hanson asked Booker's lip curled in a sneer but he didn't rise to the bait and the story continued up until when Judy called. "We were watching over Paul when the phone rang for Dr. Kincaid. Paul recognized the caller's voice despite the fact he was talking to Dr. Blackburn at the time. I was way closer to the phone and couldn't hear a damn thing on the other end."

I did not make a quip about too much listening to loud music but it wasn't easy holding my tongue.

"They both seemed really surprised, Paul even seemed a little spooked, but you could tell he liked the guy, you know" he pulled a cassette out of his jacket. "I hit record without anyone noticing. You can't understand most of what they said but you can certainly hear the change in Paul and then there's Sean's little chat with Judy and the doctors."

I passed him my player and we listened to Paul's statement but it was what happened afterward that made my toes want to curl. At first Paul had been upbeat, then his voice went empty, lifeless. When Fitzgerald walked in and Sean turned that voice of his on her I actually had to force myself not to respond, to a _recording_.

"Why don't you all tell me your names" Sean suggested on the tape and every one of us shifted catching ourselves. The man's voice was spookily compelling and I found myself hoping he wasn't inclined to politics. I had to keep repeating to myself that he wasn't talking to me as I bit my tongue.

"Judy, may I call you Judy?"

"Certainly" Judy's voice wasn't as flat Paul's but that wasn't my baby girl. I could feel my anger rising as I listened to them parrot this 'Sean' character's orders to leave Paul alone. To not worry about him, to let him do whatever he wanted, to obey him.

The four of us stared at each other as the tape clicked off. "I got a friend in IAD to try a trace the calls"

"Calls?" I interrupted.

"He tried my place a half dozen times last night. I'm guessing Judy gave him my number when she sicced him on Ioki at the precinct. He got to a couple of the other guys downtown to. Major Crimes doesn't even remember Paul exists."

"And?" I urged, noting that Booker had his hands clasped together to keep them from shaking, Penhall looked ready to bolt, and Hanson was very, very still.

"It's blocked, all they could find is that it's probably European" Booker rose clearly wanting to pace but there wasn't room in my office. "Over the phone hypnosis is supposed to be the stuff of bad TV, Captain." He snapped whirling in that fringed jacket of his and staring at me like I was supposed to have all the answers. If there was one thing 'Nam had taught me it was no matter how bad things were panicking never made them better, and Booker was hovering on the edge. Couldn't say I blamed him but it was my job to keep it from happening.

"You said Dr. Kincaid placed the original call?" I demanded making eye contact and trying to inject a little calm and collected into Booker's fight to maintain his cool. I wasn't certain how Penhall and Hanson were holding up but they hadn't been stalked all night by….whatever the hell this Sean was.

"Yeah but he doesn't even remember doing it" Booker ran a shaking hand through his hair, "He's only been in the States about three months."

"You think he was sent here after Paullus?"

"Maybe" Booker looked a little less rattled, eyes narrowed as he started thinking. I spared a glance for Penhall and Hanson. Penhall might be even more spooked than Booker but from the look of things Hanson was going with denial.

"This is bullshit" he growled apparently deciding that it must be all Booker's fault "I don't know what game you're playing but you had better leave Judy and Ioki OUT of it."

Booker blinked at him in open mouthed shock and what I suspected was a flicker of hurt before good old fashion rage set in "What the _**HELL**_ Hanson?! Why are you so damn determined to make me the bad guy?" he snarled fists curling "**YOU**'**RE** the one that's committed the crime not me. You're the one that slandered me. Why do you keep acting like I murdered your dog?"

"Hey, I'm not the one that slashed the Captain's tires."

Booker waited a beat "Neither did I."

"But you paid for it" Penhall protested.

"Yes, I did. I seem to end up paying the tab a lot around here" Booker continued earnestly "I was more concerned that a guy who gave a lifetime to this city got to keep his pension than I was about finding who really did it. Thanks to you this entire place thinks I capable of brutalizing a sixteen year old girl" he shrugged "what's a few tires next to that? Are you really this paranoid of a little competition? You have been burning me since the Academy and I" Booker's rant come to a slamming halt as a faint flush colored his cheeks. For being a damn good undercover officer and a former member of IAD Booker was awfully reluctant to 'rat' anyone else out. Convinced Booker wasn't going to elaborate I glanced at Hanson whose face was set in stubborn lines I was all too familiar with. So, the bad blood between them went back further than I had known.

"am out of here" Booker continued "I don't need this crap."

With defiant glare at Hanson he swaggered toward the door.

"Booker" I said.

He half turned "Wh" he caught himself, breathed once, and then finished his turn cool as a cucumber. Hands jammed into his jacket pockets he leaned nonchalantly against the still closed door, slight smirk firmly in place, waiting patiently, no sign at all that he had just blown his cool. Impressive, annoying as hell, but impressive. Booker might just be the best actor in the building and given the shrink's evaluation of him after what happened with Christine that worried me, a lot.

"I am going to make a few calls of my own. You stay away from the phone and get some sleep."

"Looks like you could use some yourself" Booker countered as he relaxed against the door with postcard perfect poise.

"I spent the half the night worried I was going to see Paul become sidewalk pizza."

"What?"

"I spotted the wolf at the hospital. He led me to the kid who spent the balance of the night perched five stories up on a ledge four inches wide."

"Why would he do that?"

"I checked it out after I lost him" Booker's smirk grew "by some trick of the buildings you can practically hear a pin drop for a couple of blocks. Penhall keep an eye on Hoffs" what the hell had that bastard done to my baby girl? "and Ioki. Booker, sleep. Hanson we need to talk."

Penhall looked like I'd just sent him into enemy fire before squaring his shoulders and bravely heading into battle. Booker's smirk grew into a grin as he swaggered out. They really were a pack of kids. Hand the problem off to 'Dad' and assume he'll take care of it. I wished I'd pushed Ioki harder about Paullus yesterday so I would have a better idea of what the hell my kids had ended up in the middle of. But before I started trying to figure out the truly bizarre (which hopefully had as mundane an explanation as Paul's little niche letting him hear half the street) I needed to take care of a few things closer to home.

"You didn't mention any history at the Academy with Booker."

Hanson shrugged "Booker said we should start with a clean slate."

"And did you?" I asked pointedly.

Hanson shook his head slightly while saying "Sure" a trained interrogator and undercover officer should know better, Hanson usually WAS better than that. I did my best to be fair to my kids, tried not to favor Judy even though she was my favorite, which was why I'd sent Penhall out there instead of hovering over her myself. I wondered how much I'd let Hanson's issues with Booker to color my own perceptions. Booker was **far** from perfect but the kid had potential. He would never get a fair shake here as long as Hanson hated him, Hanson was too popular with the rest of the kids. So did I keep him and try to iron this out or transfer him?

I sat, finger tips together and let the silence stretch.

"I've tried, I've given him a half dozen chances" Hanson spread his hands "he's an ass."

O.K., Booker definitely had moments when that was more or less true, "but not a rapist" I said "did you ever apologize for that?"

His chin tilted up ever so slightly "No."

I sighed, "What happened at the Academy?"

"He was cheating" Hanson insisted.

"And you could prove this?"

I think he was grinding his teeth "No."

I sighed. I was beginning to be impressed that Booker hadn't hauled off and slugged Hanson.

"So why do you think he was cheating?"

"His marks were too high."

"Come again?"

"You've seen what he's like, undisciplined, irreverent, sloppy, there's no way. He's an insult to the badge."

You could almost hear quotes and capital letters around 'the badge'. I suppose if I had been the descendent of multiple generations of officers, if my father had died in the line of duty I might have had that same reverence. I respected the badge but not the way Hanson probably had in the Academy. It was inevitable the two would butt heads but there was no way I was going to transfer Booker because both of them had too much to learn from each other.

I glanced up at Hanson "If you went to the Academy together why didn't you question his cover when he came here from IAD?"

"I didn't see him at graduation, I figured they'd kicked him to the curb and he'd weaseled his way back in later."

Booker had been second right after Hanson, I had to wonder if Hanson's accusations had cost him the top slot. "He went straight to special IAD training. He may have a…creative style" the kid had surprisingly lyrical prose "but his reports give Judy a run for her money as the best in the department."

Hanson blinked like I'd told him it was snowing in July "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I suspect there's more to Booker than you see. Now get to school I've got calls to make" Let Hanson chew on that one a little. I'd never thought of him as the type to blame the victim but people don't like to be wrong. Easier to ignore all evidence to the contrary and focus on what supported your own opinion. In all fairness to Hanson Booker was no saint on his best days which didn't mean he deserved the accusations Hanson kept leveling at him.

A glance at the clock as I gingerly snapped up the phone showed that I'd gotten just under an hour of sleep. I was too damn old to function on four hours of sleep gotten in bits of no more than forty-five minutes each.

"Captain Fuller" I said firmly squashing the flicker of fear. Penhall was still keeping watch on Hoffs and Ioki. As far as he could tell they were both perfectly normal as long as Paul wasn't the subject and Booker was right this Sean character had done a real number on major crimes. What was the kid mixed up in?

"This is Ms. Sullivan at Metro Library, are you the officer that asked us to keep an eye out for Paul earlier?"

"Yes ma'am I did."

"I didn't want to say when you first called because he isn't ALWAYS there on Wednesday evenings but he was there tonight. I mean he usually is and I've thought it was very odd but you can't deny that he's quite good."

"Where is he Ms. Sullivan?" I interrupted the rambling chatter.

"The Montgomery Street Station, I've seen him performing down by the Wharf too."

"Performing what?" I had an image of the male equivalent of Shirley Temple doing surgery on the Wharf for the tourists and shivered.

"Music mostly, tumbling and sleight of hand if the audience is more inclined to that."

The last two made a certain sense. Judy had mentioned Paul's gymnastic skills were as good as anything she'd seen on the Olympic hopefuls case and Doug's talk about notes simply appearing in his pockets argued for some nimble fingers. How many talents could a kid who hadn't reached double digits yet have?

I started to grab my keys and then remembered I didn't have a car at the moment. Hoffs, Ioki, Penhall, Hanson, and Booker were all out and I didn't want my baby girl anywhere near Paul until I found out what the hell had happened to her. I briefly considered Michelle but I didn't want to involve anyone else. Then I spotted Officer Washington. Of the four kids whose Academy time had been cut short by the strike Darius had the most potential. Provided he lived long enough to get past his need to prove himself. What the hell, he needed some one on one time anyway.

'Darry' definitely got points for enthusiasm, way too much enthusiasm. I was beginning to regret bringing him down here as we wove through the crowd. I'd told him, several times, that we were not to make a move, NOT to tip Paul off that he was being observed, that we were looking for someone else. Time would tell if I'd gotten through to him. Maybe I shouldn't have even come down here, after all we weren't after the boy anymore and he could clearly take care of himself. I shook my head, Sean must be getting to **me** if I was thinking like that. I was pretty confident if Paul did notice us he'd just run which hopefully made this a safer way to test Officer Washington's skills than tossing him unsupervised into the field. Turned out Paul wasn't hard to find at all if you knew who to ask. We were putting these kids, Fitzgerald included, into situations they weren't ready for. I had nightmares about losing them. Hell, Hanson's little stunt last year still gave me the chills. Fool kid could have died a John Doe and been lost forever.

"That has got to be the whitest music I have ever heard" Officer Washington whispered as we listened at the back of the crowd gathered around Paul. I couldn't argue despite the inherent racism of the comment. I would decide later if it merited 'a talk' or not. Ms. Sullivan had failed to mention that he wasn't alone. I'd bet my house that the tall guy playing the flute was a junkie. Damn shame because he was good enough to have his pick of orchestras. The guitarist was alright but Paul and the flautist where running rings around him and the guy with the funny looking drum.

"What is he playing?"

Good question. It had a bow like a violin and sounded sort of like one but the shape was slightly different and he balanced it on his knee. I was no expert on 'white' music but the piece they were playing sounded Irish to me. They finished with a flourish to enthusiastic applause, the ring of change, and numerous requests. The next song was some sappy popular duet I changed the station at the first sign of with Paul filling in for the girl. Nice voice. I'd spent enough of my childhood listening to choir practice to know that his pitch was perfect, his range ok but nothing special. What the kid did have was pathos, in spades. Had me considering tearing up on a song that was NOT worth it. Never heard a flute in a blues song before. Different, not bad, just unique.

_In every age of the centuries' span _

_Wise men try to understand_

_Why sorrow is forever the song of man._

_Hope lives in the hearts of men_

_Hatred creeps in now and then_

_Sad to tell you, but it will never end._

_Women weep as men kill _

_Always have, always will_

'_Cause we're never going to run out of blood to spill._

_Hearts break, hearts mend _

_Hope lives in the hearts of men_

_Pick up the pieces and get up again_

_The sun comes up and the sun goes down_

_It's just the way the world goes around._

_Lion's kill, rabbits run_

_Men make bread, butter, and guns._

_Empires crumble and fall_

_From the Soviet Bloc to the Wailing Wall_

_One thing remains the terrible beauty of it all._

_Hearts break, hearts mend _

_The River flows around the bend_

_Pick up the pieces and get up again,_

_The sun comes up and the sun goes down_

_It's just the way the world goes around._

Oddly enough despite the subject and a flute tune that sent more chills down my spine than what Sean had done to my officers Paul managed to effuse hope into it while mixing in more ennui than a ninety year old much less a nine year old had a right to. You could feel the weight of decades in his voice. No kid should, ever, EVER, be able to sing like that, terrible beauty indeed.

They finished up with Stand by Me as Washington shifted nervously beside me. He had a point the crowd was rapidly thinning now that the musicians were done and we were the only dark faces. We ducked behind some lockers for cover.

"Give me your keys. You get on the bus with him and I'll follow."

Darry looked none too happy to be turning his keys over to me. A crushed car and a set of slashed tires and now no one wanted to let me near their wheels.

"Why don't you ride the bus and I'll follow?"

"A.) Because I'm the boss…"

"74.63 each" Paul's voice carried around the corner.

"Why are you even bothering to count it? You know he's going to be right. He's always right." That didn't sound like the guitarist that had sang with Paul so it had to be either the drummer or the flautist.

"Ain't natural" came the grumbled reply accompanied by the sound of fingers on a drum.

"You're just jealous because he's ten times the musician you'll ever be."

The drummer's sotto voice mutter of "freak" had me hoping Paul was smart enough to watch his back.

"74.63" the guitarist interjected "that photographic memory of yours strikes again, kid. Stop being an ass Jimmy."

"Leopards don't change their spots" the flautist quipped "Isn't that your bus Jim?"

In the moment of quiet I whispered "B.) it's likely that he might have seen me touching base with some of your fellow officers and put two and two together."

I noted that the flautist waited, watching, until Paul was settled on his bus. A responsible junkie was a bit of a surprise. What a damn waste of talent, of a human being. I HATED drugs and what they did to people.

I frowned at the dash. I'd driven better cars to the junk yard. The thing was even worse to drive than it was to ride in. Only automatic I'd ever driven that required both feet. Blasted thing died if you didn't rev the engine while standing on the brake every time you stopped, it slipped gears at the drop of a hat, and the steering wheel shimmed so hard I felt like I was holding on to a jack hammer. Thank God the kid had decided that this was his stop. He skipped into a little deli while Washington hung back looking at me. I signaled him into the deli and then drummed my fingers waiting for his return. He used the cover of a delivery truck for the furniture store next door to join me.

"Hope turkey is ok" he said offering me sandwich and a cup of steaming coffee "There's no way I could hang around and wait for the kid to come out."

I add some pepper to the turkey and gave Washington an encouraging glance "He spent it all on sandwich makings and vitamins. They're in there putting them together." He took a bite of his roast beef "Must be a regular thing since they know him by name and had some stuff already made up and ready to go."

We ate in silence, just when I was considering giving up Paul emerged without his little violinish thing and shouldering a sack that probably outweighed him. Which put me in a serious dilemma. If there was ever a moment to take the kid this was probably it as he half staggered under nearly seventy-five dollars worth of food. Problem was if we did I was willing to bet he would drop it and run, given what little we knew this might be the only good meal the people those sandwiches were for would see for days. On the other hand the kid looked like he was in danger of throwing his back out. Why was I following Paul anyway? After all he could clearly take care of himself; there was no need for me to interfere.

"See if he can use a hand" I said "but DON'T push if he says no. We want to see where he's going." Officer Washington nodded once before slipping off into the dark. I trailed a little further behind as Washington was politely rebuffed and turned off with a nod. I'd half expected the boy to get back on the bus and head for the red light district instead he struck out on foot into one of the few parts of town that none of my officers had spent much time in. The neighborhood hadn't completely deteriorated yet but was certainly sliding in that direction but unlike most run down parts of town it didn't have that disreputable, crime ridden feel. The place was more comfortably threadbare than truly derelict. I had to revise that assumption as Paul unhesitatingly found almost two dozen older homeless people. It was clear that he knew these people and they knew him. Each sandwich was accompanied by at least a smile, frequently with a short chat, and occasionally what looked like a house call as bandages were changed and various ailments examined. It was nearly midnight before Paul approached a row home that was struggling to look tidy in a rundown neighborhood. He'd barely set a foot on the steps when the door flew open.

"You're late" the old man's voice was testy to say the least.

"Sarah had a laundry list of aches and pains" Paul retorted seemingly unconcerned by the tone and unapologetic.

"Sarah's a damn hypochondriac" he grumbled blocking the door.

"She's lonely" the boy corrected "speaking of which I brought company."

Officer Washington tensed as his hand dropped.

"I've been letting a couple of your erstwhile compatriots tail me since I finished busking."

So much for our surveillance techniques.

Now the old man sounded amused "About time. I was beginning to be embarrassed that I ever a cop."

"Oh it isn't Fitzgerald" there was a certain note of contempt in Paul's voice "I never would have tolerated her at my back."

The old man's silhouette shifted as he clearly looked out into the night. "There'll be fresh coffee brewing if you want to come in out of the cold."

Given that I was freezing my posterior off I didn't need a second invitation. It wasn't like we weren't already blown. I was surprised to discover that Paul's friend was an African-American. Every time I thought I had the kid pegged he gave us a new twist. I would have expected him to run the second he knew we were around, instead he was about to walk in with us. Was he that confident that Sean had taken care of things? Well, we'd just have to disprove that theory.

"Captain Fuller, Officer Washington, allow me to present Captain Williams."

I nodded out of respect as I took the offered hand. I had no illusions that I would have made captain without Affirmative Action. It wasn't that I wasn't a good captain, but there was enough racism that I never would have even been considered. I was angry that AA was needed and worried that I'd gotten a job I hadn't truly earned. Was I really the best man to run Jump Street or were they just filling a quota? Capt Williams had no need for such worries. The first black man of any rank in the city's history and he'd done it long before anyone even dreamed of AA. He was also one of the most decorated officers in the city's history. The man had to be over eighty. I'd had no idea he was even still alive. I hoped Officer Washington didn't embarrass me since he was probably too young to know he was in the presence of a legend. One glance back though proved that I didn't need to worry.

"It's an honor, sir" Officer Washington muttered. Captain Williams sniffed a little at the sir.

"Colder than a witch's tits out. Best all you boys get inside and stop letting in the cold." I noted that Paul was still in nothing warmer than a navy blue sweater and matching scarf while I was bundled like an Eskimo and freezing my posterior off.

"There's some of that fancy stuff you favor in the thermos. Expected you over an hour ago you're usually more considerate, had me worried there was someone new in town." His eyes flickered from the boy to us "I have regular or hazelnut vanilla French roast" you could taste the indignation over the second. I asked for regular even though the vanilla sounded better. Captain Williams made an approving sound while Paul took a black knight with a white bishop off the cheap plastic chess set before pouring himself a mug of incredible smelling coffee.

"I take it you're behind Blake being busted" it wasn't a question.

"I was barely involved" Paul protested. Captain Williams didn't buy it for a second. He did a double take at the board when he turned from the brewing coffee to glare at the boy.

"What game are you playing now old man?" he asked Paul who merely smirked in a manner eerily similar to Booker and took a sip.

Capt Williams apparently deciding that Paul wasn't going to give him what he wanted turned his aged but still sharp eyes on me "And were you barely involved too?"

"Personally? Yes, but one of my other Officers had a run in with Blake's son."

"If you knew what was going on why didn't you report it?" Officer Washington demanded, the tone was angry but he reminded me of my son the day I told him there was no Santa.

"Blake ruined my credibility with the brass. They think I'm just a senile old man these days."

I noticed that Paul had flushed blazing red and appeared to be looking for the meaning of life in the bottom of his mug. How many ways had the poor kid tried to shut down the Cook only to come up empty? I caught a glimpse of a strange tattoo on the inside of Capt Williams wrist as he passed me my coffee. Odd spot for a tattoo.

"Bastard son of a bitch!" Officer Washington exploded "Useless piece of shit. Prison's too good for him."

"Oh" Capt Williams' little grin was frightening "I think he'll find prison particularly unpleasant."

"God, how could they believe him instead of a hero like you?"

"Wasn't a hero to every one. I made plenty of enemies along the way."

"What was it like?" Officer Washington asked "Taking on the man?"

I hadn't even realized we'd spent what was left of the night listening to Capt Williams stories until the sun hit me in the face. I groaned. Another night without sleep, another day riding herd on the kids without enough rest. It was tough enough to keep up with them when I wasn't exhausted. Speaking of kids there was no sign of the one we were supposed to be catching. Damn unprofessional of me.

With the bounce and verve of youth Washington leapt up the stairs two at a time. I sighed and trudged slowly after him.

"Could I possibly ask a favor?" Paul's voice overhead scared six years off my life. I was losing it. I was a cop. I was supposed to be aware of my surroundings at all times. Eight year olds, no matter strange, should not be able to get the drop on me.

"Come down and let's get you in foster care and I'll consider it" I shoot back in my most authoritative tone. For a split second I thought he was going to comply.

"I'd rather have holes drilled in my head" he retorted.

"Then I can't help you."

"But will you help yourself?"

"Care to explain that?"

"It must be very difficult, having your entire force as rookies and being the only seasoned officer. I imagine the responsibility and pressure must be a heavy burden." Those weren't a child's eyes looking down at me. "Capt Williams won't admit it but losing his ability to mentor hit him brutally hard. It would mean a great deal to him to feel useful again, and he could be a sympathetic ear when the kids are driving you to distraction."

"The only kid driving me to distraction is you" I commented dryly "and how much of last night was because you feel guilty?"

He flushed beet red "Then you will be pleased to hear that I sincerely hope that our paths do not cross again."

"Leaving town?"

A troubled frown "I should. It isn't safe to stay anywhere for long and certainly not when I've attracted the kind of attention that I have here but…"

I had to swallow my throat as the kid paced on a ledge I couldn't have stood on. He shook his head "I can't, not yet, but I sincerely hope you and your kids don't end up anywhere near this."

That chilled me all the way to the bone "You do realize my 'kids' are twice your age?"

A shrug "I have an old soul."

"What are you planning?"

"To reveal a monster's true colors, hopefully before he destroys too many more lives."

"All by yourself?" I demanded.

"Safer that way. What happened to Capt Williams and Officer Booker is mild compared what could happen this time. Your young officers aren't ready for this playground" he retorted and dropped out of sight before I could counter if my 'kids' weren't ready how could he possibly be? I cursed under my breath, wished the crazy kid luck, and prayed to God we didn't fish him out of the Bay.

**Booker**

I glanced up as Capt Fuller came dragging in looking more exhausted than I had after a week at the Y. I decided to take mercy on him and grabbed him some coffee from my pot instead of the one that Penhall abused. He muttered something that I took to be an affirmative when I knocked. He took a sip and blinked at me in surprise.

"I thought Penhall made the coffee on Fridays."

"You honestly think I would drink the swill Penhall brews?"

"How long do you think it'll be before the rest of them find your stash?"

I gave him a patented 'Officer Booker' smart-ass bastard grin "If you had any REAL narcs out there they would have found the contraband weeks ago."

Too my surprise Fuller just frowned deep in thought. After a couple of breaths I started to leave only to have Fuller's voice stop me at the door.

"Have a seat" it wasn't a request "I spent most of last night tailing your little friend" I was shocked. While Hanson and Penhall weren't nearly as bad as Judy, Ioki, and the major crimes crowd just listening to the tape seemed to have blunted any desire to look into anything related to Paul. I didn't **think** I was under Sean's influence but I'd thought he'd gotten to everyone else. I swallowed a sigh of relief that I wasn't the only one who hadn't been sucked under.

"What happened?"

Fuller looked totally disgusted with himself "I let him slip right through my fingers" he glanced down at the offending digits "I could have had him and I didn't even really try."

Or maybe he was just less enthralled than the others. I wondered if Paul was standing in front of me if I could bring him in or if I wanted to, needed to. I was becoming more and more convinced that Paullus truly was a supernatural being of some sort. To quote Sherlock Holmes 'when you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth'. He'd been dead. Just for a few seconds but that punk who'd thrown him into the dumpster had KILLED him. I knew what I'd felt, what I'd seen and I was willing to bet Mary Shelley had seen it too. Seen it and recognized the ugly truth, that entirely too many people would react like Ioki and his ancestors. That punk bastard should be looking at two murder raps instead of one but I could hardly out Paul and his kind because they would be persecuted. Ioki could rant about him being a demon until the sky fell in there was no way I was going to believe he was evil just because he was different (and this bunch thought **I** was the racist around here?) not without hard evidence because everything I'd seen and heard proved exactly the opposite. Sean was a different story, Sean gave me the heebie-jeebies. A guy who could mess with minds like that was terrifying. I had to grant though that he wasn't evil either. I mean, he could probably make anyone do anything and basically all he'd done was say 'hey, leave Paul alone'. Intellectually I could understand why he'd done it, even respect his restraint, but it still gave me chills, made me feel small and defenseless. What if there were more of them like Sean without that restraint? From Ioki's laundry list of names and abilities there were 'sons of lightening' or whatever out there that WERE evil to the core. I wondered if they'd started that way or if we'd driven them to it. Hell no, the monster's excuse for why he went bad was a complete cop out. I was willing to bet Paul had been in some pretty ugly places including the inside of a WWII concentration camp and as far as I could tell he was one of the most fundamentally decent beings I'd ever met. The real question was how much of Ioki's legend was fact and how much was fiction?

"You say Williams has a tattoo on the inside of his _wrist?_" I make it sound like I was dubious when I actually felt like a wolf picking up a scent. Dr. Kincaid had had an inner wrist tattoo of some kind and I was convinced that he'd know more than Ioki had last night – clearly Ioki's family weren't the only ones who knew about Paul and his pals.

"**Captain** Williams" Fuller said testily "I wasn't even certain you were listening."

I hadn't been, not really, I had a knack for hearing what I needed to even when I was completely ignoring the speaker. That Paul was also a fine musician was an interesting tidbit but if he really was hundreds of years old I'd be more surprised if he wasn't. No, the important thing was the tattoo, the question was what exactly did they really mean?

"Would I ignore you?" I asked the picture of wounded innocence. Fuller rolled his eyes.

"Given that you have a busy afternoon" I tried not to wince at the reminder. I wondered if I would have been quite this enthused over the mystery of Paul if I hadn't had a preliminary wrongful death hearing about Christine breathing down my neck. The 'kid' had been a great distraction. Stay cool, stay casual, I could hear my Dad's voice in my head 'never let them see you bleed'. If I'd given anything away it didn't show in Fuller's expression "I'll cut to the chase – Paul said that even though he should be leaving he's staying to reveal a monster's true colors – any idea what he might have meant?"

I shook my head. I had half talked myself into ignoring it all despite the fact that curiosity was killing me because I didn't want to draw the wrong kind of attention to Paul. But this, this was different, now there was a 'bad guy' again and I was willing to bet he wasn't like Paul. Bringing down human monsters was **my** job. I put up with the paper work, politics, and stupid rules for only one reason - to know at the end of the day I'd at least tried to make the world a slightly better place. Hanson would never believe it but I loved the idea of Jump Street, nip it in the bud. Yeh, I'd shared the brass's concerns about the kids being entrapped but I'd been rooting for the officers here (Hanson included) to prove me wrong. Granted I'd been having a blast yanking Tommy boy's chain too. In retrospect I'd shot myself in the foot with that but I wasn't precisely sorry either. How had things gone so wrong with the wasteoids? I still couldn't shake the feeling that if I'd done something different those kids would still be alive. I **needed** a righteous bust. It wouldn't bring either of them back but maybe I'd feel like I was doing something worthwhile again. I could really envy Hanson right now. _His_ bust from the art school had turned things around and was having a blast doing community service. Mine was probably going to end up in the morgue as either an OD or a bumcicle. Granted his bust was ALREADY turning things around without any help from Tommy-boy but God it would have been sweet if I could have been with the musicians. I played guitar and sax too (for a heartbeat I'd considered switching to something else when the cosmic joke that Hanson and I played the same exact instruments had been brought to my attention) it could have been me except that Tommy-boy had the 'history' I didn't. I wondered how far he would have gotten if his Dad hadn't been 'a veteran killed in the line of duty'.

"Booker?"

Apparently my attention had wandered a little too far off course "Yeah?"

"There's a great deal riding on your testimony today" little things like my career, the continued existence of the Jump Street program, and a potential monster law suite against a city that couldn't afford it. No pressure, no pressure at all. "are you ready?"

I shrugged with an easy arrogant nonchalance I certainly didn't feel "I've got my lines memorized. Wanna hear 'em?"

His turn to shake his head "No, I'm sure you do."

I was more than a little surprised. Legal seemed to think I was a moron and had given me a script I was less than impressed with. More than I intended must have shown on my face because he followed it up with "When you aren't **trying** to make an ass of yourself you can be surprisingly insightful."

"Thanks" I said chewing my gum a little harder trying not to flush under the unexpected (and undeserved) backhanded praise.

"Speaking of trying to be an ass, Hanson mentioned that you suggested that the two of you let bygones be bygones when you first came."

"It seemed like the right thing to do" I said a little quieter than I'd intended.

"How well did that go?" he asked pointedly and I could feel my face heating up. Busted no point denying it.

I shrugged "I didn't knock his block off" and I could have. I was pretty sure that if I didn't get the drop on Ioki he would mop the floor with me I was just as certain that I wouldn't have any trouble turning Tommy-boy into hamburger. Which wasn't to say I thought he couldn't fight. Five things determine the outcome of a fight, who strikes first, training, speed, size, and will pretty much in that order. We were a roughly equal match on training and speed which left size and let's face, Hanson was a little guy, will, and who hit first which against all my father's advice I was inclined to let Hanson have. Not because I thought he deserved the advantage but because when the time came I wanted the moral high ground.

"I suggest you continue to exercise the same restraint."

There was a warning if I'd ever heard one. Lovely, yet another member of the Tom Hanson fan club. I must have given away more than I meant to because I got a long look.

"I'll make you a deal Booker, you stop _**intentionally**_ pushing buttons and I'll see what I can do about reminding certain colleagues of the importance of little things like evidence before committing slander, proper procedure, of the notion of innocent until proven guilty, and that punishing someone for a crime that was never even committed is poor sportsmanship at best."

"Thanks" I said while thinking too little too late.

Fuller frowned "Maybe you have some notion now what it is to be born a suspect" I didn't roll my eyes but it was close "do we have a deal?"

I sighed "Yes."

"Good, now get out of here and get ready for court" his voice caught me at the door "and Dennis if they finish with you today I don't want to see you in tomorrow."

I opened my mouth to protest but in keeping with his earlier advice to take 'pampering' when you could get it just gave him a nod instead.

_The blond's hands twined their way through my hair as her tongue darted around mine with a teasing promise of more to come. I wrapped my hands around her thighs getting ready to pull her._

I jerked awake, eyes wide, looking for the source of the sirens. I slammed my eyes back shut as the early afternoon sun seared all the way through what was left of my brain. Given how badly I felt I had no idea how I'd been having a dream that good. I groaned slumping back into my tangled sheets. Figures I finally have a dream that doesn't involve dead teenagers and some ass wakes me up. I tried to swallow to get the taste of old socks out of my mouth but I was too parched to even summon up spit. No more Tequila ever again I promised my pounding head and abused liver. I cautiously opened one eye just a sliver checking that the blond (NOT the one of my dreams – how drunk had I been?) I'd stumbled in with last night was safely gone. I considered getting up to get something to drink and a bottle of aspirin but decided to try getting back into the swing of my shattered dream. Wasn't like the sheets didn't already need washing and the girl from last night had at least smelled good. I borrowed my face in the other pillow breathing in traces of shampoo, perfume, and musk…

_I hiked her up…_

"DENNIS BOOKER IF YOU DON'T ANSWER ME I SWEAR I'M GOING TO KICK THIS DOOR IN!"

Heart pounding so loud it complete drowned out the throbbing in my head I sat bolt upright staring down at my perfectly understandable reaction to a really hot dream and tried to figure out what I was going to do about Judy threatening my door. Part of me REALLY wanted to march over and throw it open just like I was and challenge that 'let's just be friends and coworkers' of attitude of hers. The part of me that wasn't a complete ass was having a panic attack. Cool, just be cool. Cool would be good. A cold shower would be better but Judy didn't sound like she was going to give me that long. My heart skipped a beat at the thought that she might not be alone. Sean could have easily gotten a transatlantic flight by now. It's depressing what the thought of a guy magically messing with your mind can do to perfectly good wood.

"Give me a minute" I yelled, instantly regretting it. I found my sunglasses first then my pants before heading for the aspirin figuring that now that I'd acknowledged her Judy might be slightly less likely to do something that would cost me my security deposit. I used the stupid little peephole for the first time in my life feeling like a complete dweeb which didn't stop me from breathing a sigh of relief that Judy was alone.

I leaned against the door jam as she stomped past with a box almost as big as she was.

"You're moving in?" I asked trying for salacious but it came out as weary. I fought not to wince at the bang when it nearly took out my rickety coffee table.

She huffed "Not even in your wildest dreams which I do NOT want to hear about."

I was just glad to be seeing Judy more herself. "I did some checking into what we talked about"

I froze wanting to rip into the box, wanting to run from the room. This was Judy. The only person other than Ioki who had given me a fair shake at Jumpstreet. I COULDN'T just walk away.

"If you need to talk about this or about yesterday" oddly looking Christine's mom in the face while I was in the witness box and apologizing for not realizing just how messed her daughter had been seemed to have unknotted something. I certainly wasn't HAPPY about how things had turned out but I wasn't as haunted either. Miracle of miracles I wasn't quite in the doghouse with the brass either. I'd gotten a slap on the wrist for adding a touch here and changing a word there in my prepared speech but even legal had had to admit it sounded better and that Christine's parents had been mollified enough by it that they'd settled for all officers that had regular contact with teens had to take special training. The guys at Jumpstreet were going to HATE me for that but if it saved even one kid it was worth it. Afterwards I'd had a bit of a celebration, well, given the pounding in my head more than a bit.

"I know where to find you" I considered saying something flirty but I owed Judy for this. I had no idea how she had come through so quickly.

"Sorry about the racket" she looked a little sheepish now "the box came in first thing this morning." I was impressed having seen first hand just how impatient Judy could be. I was willing to bet she perfected the fine art of slitting gift wrap open so she could check out her Christmas presents with no one the wiser. "Given the kind of night you had I didn't think you'd be in any mood to get up early."

I frowned, I knew exactly who had been carrying tales, even drunk as hell I'd hadn't had any trouble spotting my tail. I wasn't blind, I could tell that Judy was 'Daddy's girl' for the Captain, or should that be Wendy to us 'Lost Boys'? Either way saying this to Judy wasn't much different than saying it to Fuller. Should I? Shouldn't I? I hesitated. My first inclination was to keep my mouth shut. Except…

"Darry's surveillance skills need **serious** work."

"You just don't like him because he crossed the line."

I shook my head "I'm not saying it because he's a low down dirty scab. He didn't finish his training and even if he had I'm not sure he'd ever be cut out for undercover work. Not everyone is good at it. No, I don't like him but I don't want him dead either" I pause d NOT wanting to continue but knowing I had to "Fuller listens to you. If he goes out like he is he's going to get someone killed."

Judy pursed her lips considering "I'll pass the word and see what I can do."

I looked back at the box that was about to crush my less than sturdy coffee table "Color me impressed. I had no idea you could work this fast."

She shrugged "It wasn't all that hard. Your grandfather was" a quick glance up as she realized the slip.

"It's ok, we were never close. He wasn't very approachable" now THERE was an understatement. I'd had nightmares about my grandfather. I'd hated even being in the same room with him.

Judy's tongue flickered over her lips. It was a nervous habit but it sent both ends of my spine in a direction that I knew Judy wasn't comfortable with. I shifted to relieve a little pressure.

"I can understand that. He was kind of…infamous."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's all in the box."

"I'll make some coffee" I offered. I didn't actually want to Judy to stick around (well certain parts of my anatomy were very keen to have her stay but I knew they weren't going to get their wish, at least not today) but I couldn't very well hustle her out the door when she had gone through all the trouble to unearth whatever was in the box.

"Don't bother on my account. It's ok, Dennis. I know you don't want anyone around right now but if you ever want to talk just call."

I just blinked at her for a second stunned. Why were none of my girlfriends this understanding? I tried to pack as much sincere gratitude as I could into my "Thank you" before seeing her to the door. My boys were very disappointed to see her go. I took them for a shower instead.

I draped the towel over a chair and glared at the box before chuckling – the address read 'Officer Milk Carton'. God I would pay serious money to have seen that. The smile faded. Why not to Officer Hoffs? I grabbed a knife and carefully slit the tape. I grabbed the cassette labeled 'play me first' that was attached to the lid.

I settled the headphones over my head, hit play and let a pure unsullied Bronx accent wash over me.

"We never met, Donny, but I know when you first smiled at your Nonna, what day you took your first step. I knew more about you than anyone up until the day your dad had us put you and your mother into the witness protection program." I flicked off the tape, stunned, ready to deny it except that Mom's constant moves and the 'sever all ties' policies made sense if we were on the lam. But from who? I flicked the tape back on determined to find out exactly what Mom had been hiding.

"My name isn't important and once you've gone through these files and listened to the tapes I urge you to burn it all. I couldn't believe it when Milk Carton told me what you're doing for a living. Your grandfather's got to be spinning in his grave at light speed. Not just a cop but a _**narc?!**_" I shifted, tempted to hit the fast forward and wishing the old guy would get to the point. "Your mom undoubtedly thinks she's doing what's best for you by keeping you in the dark and maybe if you'd grown up to be an accountant or something ignorance would be bliss but not as a narc. You need to know kid." I practically growled at the tape "Both your dad and your grandfather were made men" I shut off the tape for a minute to let that sink in – my Dad was a mobster? I could believe it of my Grandfather, with his cold, dead eyes but Dad a killer? No way in hell. I ripped off the headphones and tossed the player in the box. Dad had been a good guy. We might have grown apart. Might have lost track of each other but no way was he some murdering wise guy. I glared at the offending pile of manila folders and tapes. It wasn't until I started to light a cigarette that I noticed that my hands were shaking. That wouldn't do at all. I drew the smoke deep into my lungs willing myself to relax before going back to the blasted box.

"Your grandfather was far more than just a made man, he was a capo of capos, right hand to a godfather for decades. If I'd sent you all our files on him it would take a couple of freight cars. He was cunning as weasel, slick as a snake, cold as ice, the only reason he wasn't the godfather himself was, well, no offence kid, but he had all the charm and charisma of a maggot ridden warthog" there was a visual I hadn't needed. Couldn't really argue with it but still "When your Nonna gave him a son late in life he was determined to mold him into the boss of bosses. If your dad hadn't grown a conscious and put half the New York mob behind bars you would be the Prince of New York instead of earning an honest living as a cop. Now I could talk all day about it but since I was in charge of surveillance on your family for years I'll just let your Dad tell you in his own words."

There was a moment of silence then a voice I hadn't heard in years but shot through with a fury and despair I'd never known in it "I know you're listening. You're always listening even when you have no business doing it. Meet me at the cemetery in a half an hour bring plenty of tape and the DA."

A breath of dead air then a voice I didn't know.

"You expect us to stage the deaths of your wife and son BEFORE you give us a damn thing?" guy sounded pissed.

"Damn right I do. You aren't getting _**anything**_ from me until I'm confident that they're clear."

"I don't know why we're letting this scumbag jerk us around anyway. We don't need his help."

"Oh, you cops" the contempt positively dripped from the word. Crooked cop was the worst thing Dad could call you but I'd always thought he had a lot of respect for the clean ones. "are doing _**such**_ a bang up job at cleaning up the streets. Do you have any idea junk passes right under your noses every day?! I am offering you a chance to get _**millions**_ of dollars worth off the street, to put away some heavy hitters, to gut the infrastructure of crime in this city and not so incidentally make all of your careers. What the hell is your problem?"

"Maybe it just seems a little too good" the mystery officer that had sent the stuff piped up for the first time "the world is your oyster. You've got a shot at being more powerful than the mayor. Why trade it in to be hunted for the rest of your life?"

"I love my son" silence from the cops. I rewound and listened to it again. Women always want to hear it, men never want to say it. I'd always understood the latter but never the former. Had I ever heard him say it? Not that I could remember, and not like that. "Kid's got an innate sense of justice and fair play"

"Must have come from his mother's side" someone else quipped.

"Doesn't matter where it's from" my Dad shot back "it's there and Pop wants to put him to work. One way or the other joining the Family will kill him."

"Tell your dad to leave the kid alone, he's nine for God's sake."

My Dad's response was a bitter chuckle "It doesn't work like that."

"So just cap him, isn't that what you people do?"

Silence thick enough to cut.

"That doesn't clean up the streets."

The idiot just did NOT know when to shut up "You've been a made man since you were fourteen. Do expect us to buy that you've suddenly developed a bleeding heart?"

"Do you want what I'm offering or not?" Dad spat back "I have the connections to stage this myself. I don't need **you**, you need **me.** Jesus wept. Do you think I couldn't stage our deaths and just quietly disappear?" A mirthless chuckle followed by a snarl "Get your ass off that stone."

"What's the matter wise guy? Don't like me sitting on" a pause "ol' Aurelius."

It was the cop who'd sent me the stuff that blasted back "Get hell up O'Neil! That little boy was worth ten of you."

"Just you" Dad said "I'll talk to you. You're the liaison."

A little dead air.

"That was how it started" the old cop said "I've included some of the highlights of your Dad being the snitch of all snitches. He could harden his heart for himself but he couldn't stand the thought of you getting your hands dirty and Carmine wouldn't hear of you not being part of the family business. It's probably a little selfish of me but your Dad never told you much about Aurelius and from what Milk Carton says the S.O.B. that had Aurely before your Dad rescued him" I sat up on that – Dad had rescued Aurely?! That had never come up when he told me about Aurely. "is still out there, maybe even in your city, from the sound of your Paul. God I wish I was twenty years younger. I'd be on the next damn plane. Your Dad isn't the only one that owes Aurely. See I was listening that night. I heard it all. When your Dad left I called it in as a NHI" No Humans Involved my mind automatically filled in, pissed that this pompous ass had declared my Dad wasn't worth saving. He'd been all of fifteen. Who throws a kid away at fifteen?! "Don't ever do it. Every body leaves someone behind, no matter what kind of scum they are" I bristled, my Dad had NEVER been scum. "It's haunted me for over thirty years. I have as much blame in Aurely's death as your Dad and the sac of pus that pulled the trigger. But it wasn't until thirteen years ago that I learned where Aurely came from. Your Grandfather wanted to ease your Dad into things so he started him off running a brothel which I suppose is every fourteen year old boy's dream job…"

For being in intelligence the guy wasn't the very good at splicing or maybe the gaps were intentional.

Dad began "So you were already listening to us back when Aurely died?"

"Yes, yes I was. I was listening that night. I saw him before, before the morgue lost the body" I'd half convinced my head that it was true. That there really were Immortals out there and if there really were Immortals then odds were that the A in A.C. Paullus stood for Aurelius but hearing that Aurely's body had disappeared from the morgue still sent a shiver up my spine. And it gave a pretty good indication of just how much damage he'd taken for my Dad. According to Ioki if you ripped them up enough they went through a 'little death' to heal up. Those punks had crushed Paul's skull and he'd bounced right back on his feet – how many bullets had he taken for my Dad?

"Incompetent asses" Dad muttered around his cigarette. The cop didn't bother to defend them. "He was a good kid. There is NO justice. I have a favor to ask, for Aurely. You find Master Kim and you bury him."

"Master Kim?"

"Hell, I thought you guys were listening" Dad's ire was for the cops now "can't any of you 'civil servants' get a damn thing right?" Apparently it was a rhetorical question because he didn't give the cop a chance to answer. "Pop and the other capos were out of town that weekend, some big meeting up state, so when the Chink showed up with a handful of girls claiming he was in town to see Tramanti the boys figured he was looking for me." Dad took a long, long drag on his cigarette. Which reminded me of EXACTLY how long it had been since my last one. I closed my eyes imagining the taste and then popped a piece of gum in my mouth. It just was NOT the same. "I've met a lot of ugly people in my time. Bad dudes that would have you cops pissing your pants but nothing, NOTHING like that Chink. Evil, real honest to God, Jesus save us, Mary protect us, evil. I expected his damn head to spin. He wanted to open negotiations for bringing in girls and junk. I laughed when he quoted his rates. Told him his goods were nothing special so he gave me a demonstration of what the Root could do." Dad got up to pace, I could hear the footsteps as the pitch rose and fell "So he catches a girl off the street, gives her a couple of drops, and shoves her in my direction. Ten seconds after this stuff is in her and she's putty. Will do ANYTHING, and I mean _**anything**_ she's told." Quietly, shamefully he continued "It was an incredibly good time right up until she went into convulsions and died." I sucked in a breath and paused the tape. Keim Sum was real. The potion that Harry had told me about, the one that stripped men of their will and made them puppets in another's hands really existed. I glanced over at my silenced phone with its cord wrapped around it. I loved tales of the supernatural. I'd always thought it would be incredibly cool if it was real, to be in one. It was rapidly becoming a lot less cool and apparently I'd been in the middle of one since before I was even born. I also wasn't real happy to find out that my Dad was a rapist was well as a mobster. I flicked the tape back on.

"I stormed back in and the Chink was all over this little blond kid. Sick, really really sick stuff. Some things are just way too far. I stuck my gun in the s.o.b's ear and he laughed. Told me to pull the trigger all I wanted that he'd just be back and pissed off. I ordered him to give the kid an antidote or I'd put his theory to the test. He just petted the kid and said 'There is no antidote. Your kind die and given enough time ours no longer need the Root to be obedient.' He's petting the kid the whole time like he's a dog or something. 'Master Kim has been wanting the beautiful Aurelius, he will be such a perfect gift when he's ready.' He started ranting about how Master Kim was the keeper of the Root and how he was going to rule us all." An uncomfortable pause "So I shot him in the arm. All he did was smirk and tell me if I interfered he would bleed my children for a hundred generations."

Silence then the cop "So what did you do?"

"I emptied my gun in him. Had the boys chain him up and pack him in a drum full of concrete then we dropped him in the deepest part of the Hudson we could find. I don't care if that sick sack of pus is Dracula himself he ain't EVER coming back." I clicked off the tape again letting that sink in. I OWED Mom for all those moves. Not because of the mob but because somewhere there was an Immortal sick enough to spook my Dad who'd grown up with the toughest wise guys in New York with VERY good reason to be less than amused with my family. Thank whatever was out there that Dad had staged our deaths first. With any luck by the time the guy got loose everyone who knew we were still alive would be dead. I wondered how long it would take the chains and barrel to rust away and for him to chip through the concrete. I made a note to ask Paul if I saw him again before clicking the tape back on. "I took Aurelius with me. I didn't know what else to do, I was only fourteen. Ma fell instantly in love with him and by the time Pop got back there was no question of dumping him somewhere. He was so damn sick for days. For awhile I was convinced I'd rescued a vegetable and then one day poof like magic he was fine. But damn it all he wouldn't TALK, he kept telling me I'd only get myself into trouble if I went after Master Kim. Acted like he was bloody protecting me. HIM protect ME" a sigh "If it hadn't been for that I might have listened to reason that night. Kid might still be alive. Master Kim's still out there. Still brewing that poison that robs people of their will. Never could track him down, not with all the resources of the Family. Don't think you'll be able to either but now you know and maybe you'll get lucky. It happens sometimes." I cut the tape again thumbing through the manila folders hoping for more on Keim Sum and the mysterious 'Chink' who was hopefully still at the bottom of the Hudson.

I nearly choked to death on my gum when I found the picture. Any and all doubts about Dad's Aurelius and my Paul being one in the same were resoundingly settled. I didn't know if it was some journalist or a crime scene photographer with a taste for the macabre who had take this. Maybe it was just the fact that I knew the subjects that made it hit like a fist in the gut. I pulled my eyes away from the ruin of Aurely's chest only to meet his very dead eyes. Dad's were almost as glassy and glazed as he hugged Aurely to him his right hand still clutching a gun. I got the impression he was rocking and I was willing to bet money he'd had no idea this shot was ever taken. Somewhere between stunned and grief stricken. Dad's was always so calm, cool, and collected. I could see now why Paul was always wearing something around his neck. According to Harry it was the one place an Immortal could scar. A slave collar had been branded around his throat and I knew just enough Latin to tell that the lettering read property of Alaricus. Alaricus? As in Alaric the Goth? I suppose the Roman name should have been more than a slight tip but this was proof that Harry's talk of thousands of years was more than just hyperbole.

It had been years since I'd seen a picture of my Dad. Move by move they'd slowly vanished. I certainly wouldn't be framing this one. I tried to imagine what my life would be like if he hadn't gotten us out. I would have had everything money could buy. I'd have eaten a bullet. I hated the rules. Maybe that's why Hanson and I were oil and water. Maybe three generations of cop could just sense the mob blood. Hanson was like Fuller only more so. It was all about the rules and regulations for them. It was about doing what was JUST for me and sometimes that was inside the rules and sometimes it wasn't.

"I love you Dad" I said before putting the picture back in its folder. I wondered if he was even alive or dead. Nonna had taken me to Mass but I'd never really believed. I whispered a prayer that wherever he was that he was ok since there was nothing else I could do without making all of his risks in vain. I glanced the box, the player, and the clock debating. If I was going to make my date I needed to get a quick shower and throw something a little more presentable on. It was tempting to go back to the box but I needed some time to let it all settle in. What the hell I had a beautiful woman wanting to buy me dinner and if I played my cards right ready to be dessert. I'd waited half my life the box could wait a few more hours.

15


End file.
